when darkness comes
by Ditsyjo
Summary: When everything comes crashing down the world is changed... but at the end of life as they know it, somethings never change. This is an alternate universe that begins at the end of season 6 episode 1. As most of you know I'm pretty rough on characters. This one is a little weird so hang in there .
1. Chapter 1

Jerking awake from another gut twisting dream, Peter focused wearily on the glowing dial of his alarm clock.

4:46 am

He sighed, as much as he'd like to go back to sleep, he knew he was probably up for the day. The last two days had been brutally long. The memories of Neal's release request being denied followed by his kidnapping left the agent vaguely sick as they swirled roughly through his thoughts. Then his mind pulled the most difficult memory sharply back to the forefront again. Oddly enough it had come after he knew Neal was safe, after the younger man had grinned and told him he had an in to take down the Pink Panthers and asked with quiet seriousness if it was worth his freedom. When his consultant had slipped away to his "interview" Mozzie had silently appeared beside the agent, his eyes suspiciously bright.

"Thank you for bringing him home" the little guy said suddenly

"I always will, if I can." The silence between them grew awkward after that.

"Promise me you will be kind to him, Suit" Mozzie spoke quietly as he pushed his glasses up sharply.

"I usually am, when I can be."

"He's more than an asset, so if your overlords won't release him, be kind to him… he's had a rough year…rough few years actually."

"Of course he's more than an asset. Neal is my friend."

"You told him otherwise recently."

"He is my friend" Peter sighed and shook his head. "I… I was just concerned… that the price of his friendship might be too high." He admitted reluctantly. "After everything that's happened…"

"The price of his friendship?!" Haversham snorted with shocking indignation "What about the price of your friendship?! He has forgiven you far worse than he has ever asked you to forgive him."

"What does that mean?" Peter stared at the little guy in disbelief.

"The woman he loved is dead, the woman who raised him is too? How would you feel about a friend who was responsible for that?" The small man glared up at him, but he continued without waiting for an answer "He's been accused of crimes he didn't commit how many times? He's been handed over to people who wanted to kill him. He's lost most of his friends and his dignity. He's still a prisoner while you have gotten two promotions based on his work, but he refuses to hold it against you. Consider if you would be as forgiving in his place." The small man paused in the midst of his tirade to draw a breath and his eyes narrowed "I know if someone who wanted to call me friend had cost me even half as much, I would not be particularly forgiving, but Neal… Neal is inclined to forgive you. So I am simply asking you to be understanding, because he really can't take much more." With his back ramrod straight he had turned and stalked away with allowing the agent a chance to respond.

Peter rolled over and punched his pillow. He didn't want to be up this early and he certainly didn't want to be playing last night's conversation with Haversham over in his mind, but the fact was it hadn't left his thoughts since the small man walked away. He tried to tell himself it wasn't his fault Neal had suffered so much since he made the deal. That Neal brought his problems on himself, but… the truth was Peter had spent the night dreaming of himself telling Neal not to search for his missing girlfriend, of running Ellen's name through the system, encouraging Neal to try to have a relationship with James, of looking his friend in the eye and telling him he was disappointed while the younger pleaded to be believed… the list went on and on.

With a sigh he rolled out of bed and headed to the shower. There would be no more sleep this morning.

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Neal rolled his shoulders and turned his face to let the cool October breeze lift his hair from his face. Being kidnapped… even by an idiot, was exhausting. A decent night's sleep seemed to have barely taken the edge off the weariness. At least it was over and he had a new line on finding his freedom. He shook his head, rolling his shoulders again to release the tension there… he only had to take down one of the biggest gangs of thieves in the world… how hard could it be? Neal sighed, like he told Mozzie last night he wanted more than freedom. His friend would be horrified to hear what he really wanted, though… not the money or thrill of a big score, not the rush of evading investigating agents… not even the different thrill of a successful investigation and arrest. He wanted to be someone else entirely, or baring that to be himself with a chance to start over… really start over, to go back to being eighteen with the knowledge he had now. Of course that was a ridiculous dream, but his freedom would allow him to recreate himself somewhere that Neal Caffrey wouldn't cause women to clutch their purses closer. Maybe he would go back to Daniel Brooks…

He turned his gaze to the flaming sunrise and smiled… when in doubt smile. He learned that lesson a long time ago. When he was five years old and the teacher looked at his dirty shirt and thread bare pants that stopped three inches above his skinny ankle and asked if everything was alright at home, and he smiled at her assuring her that everything was fine, the tight line in her forehead faded and everything was alright. The right smile could do almost anything he had discovered in that moment.

Allowing himself to settle on the park bench he watched the clouds on the horizon turn purple and gold. He closed his eyes for a moment and allowed the warmth of the early fall morning to soak into his skin…

"You look very content this morning, Mr. Caffrey." The unfamiliar voice snapped Neal's eyes open, revealing a well- groomed middle aged man in a more expensive suit than his own, with dark, slightly greying hair and calculating grey eyes. "Mind if I join you?" the man nodded to the bench. The young man tensed…his body preparing to run, but he held onto his calm exterior.

"By all means…" he flashed a bright smile… when in doubt, smile… "Though I'm afraid you have me at a disadvantage Mr.…"

"Lancaster, Miles Lancaster." The gentleman extended his hand in greeting as he sat on the bench. "You'll forgive me, I hope for cutting directly to the chase… my time is limited. I have a proposition for you Mr. Caffrey."

"A proposition? I'm listening." After all, there was nothing wrong with finding out what he wanted, Neal reasoned.

"I understand you are… something of an expert at … acquiring … certain objects."

"I may, hypothetically know something about the subject. What are you interested in acquiring?"

"Objects of historical and cultural significance. True importance…to protect them for future generations."

"Isn't that the purpose of museums…?" he couldn't stop the hint of a frown. This guy sounded a bit…off. Even if he was inclined to take a job he never had been comfortable with an unstable client.

"I have my reasons for doubting museums security's ability to fulfill that purpose."

"I see…" Neal hesitated for a heartbeat "And what exactly does this have to do with me?" He needed to keep this guy appeased until he could determine if he was dangerous.

"I am hiring acquisitions experts for my conservation project."

"And my name came up?" he glanced around quickly…. wondering suddenly if this was a test set up by the FBI… to ensure his potential honesty or to guarantee his failure, he wasn't sure which was more likely.

"I have heard you could sell snow in February… in Alaska."

"I might have some talent as a sales person…" pride and confusion battled in his tone.

"You are also known to be a thief and con-artist." Lancaster said quietly.

"Allegedly… I was never convicted of either of those crimes..."

"Granted…" he arched a stiff eyebrow "but talented none the less."

"So you want me to talk museums into selling you the pieces you want?"

"Selling… loaning, have them sent to me for appraisal or restoration… I would prefer to keep out right theft to an absolute minimum."

"So acquiring… by any means necessary…? And you think I am the man for the job?"

"One of several men and women for the job. Yes." Lancaster smiled "You would be well compensated, I assure you."

"Assuming I'm interested… what pieces do you want me to… acquire?"

"I have also heard you are a true lover of the arts… so I want you to bring me your favorites… all of them."

"Can I get back to you, Mr. Lancaster? I need to consider your offer…"

"Of course." The older man's smile did nothing to soften his sharp expression as he handed Neal his card. The younger man turned it over slowly in his hand. Only a phone number and the name, Miles Lancaster, was printed simply on the cardstock. "You may reach me at this number…" he rose abruptly and offered his hand again. The young man shook it cautiously.

"Thank you." He wasn't sure what exactly he should say in response to the bizarre offer.

"Don't think about it too long, Mr. Caffrey… It is, shall we say, a limited time offer."

Watching the man walk away Neal shook his head… "That very well might have been the strangest conversation I ever had" Being friends with Mozzie for thirteen years… that was a substantial accomplishment. A quick glance at his watch reminded him he had to hurry… he barely had time for breakfast before he needed to get to work.

Walking swiftly toward the office half an hour later a new thought occurred to him. Should he tell Peter about his strange encounter this morning? If it was some sort of FBI test and he didn't, they might use it to extend his sentence, or at least deny his release… but if it was a legitimate job offer… as bizarre and crazy as Lancaster appeared, he wanted mostly legal acquisitions, it wouldn't be Neal's job to ensure the pieces were properly returned… and he could use the money to start over once he was free… Of course, Peter would say it was skirting the line, slipping into those grey areas that got them both in trouble. Maybe he could discreetly look into Lancaster before he decided what to do?

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He frowned as he watched Neal amble back to his desk. The younger man wore a bright smile for everyone and he carried himself with his usual jaunty step, but Peter could see the tension that lingered in his shoulders. "I shouldn't have let him come in today." He thought... no one should be at work less than twenty-four hours after a kidnapping, but he let Neal assure him he was fine, that the events of the last couple of days hadn't phased him. Which brought Peter's mind back to the odd conversation he had with the little guy last night, not that all of his conversations with Haversham hadn't been odd, but the most recent one cut deep, leaving the agent wondering how often Neal had purposely diverted his attention and how often he simply overlooked the price the young man paid for their friendship. How many days had he come in to work looking exactly this way, tense, worried and tired, to be met with not concern, but suspicion. How many times had Peter asked what he was up to, when he should have asked what he was going through?

Neal looked… agitated. All morning he had been up and down, unable to stay in his seat… obviously not concentrating on the case files on his desk. Right now he was playing absently with his stupid ball while his eyes stared vacantly into space. With a sigh, Peter gestured for his friend to join him… hopefully their relationship was on solid enough ground that he could get the younger man to talk to him. Neal followed him into his office, his movements deliberately casual. He melted into the offered seat with an innocent until proven guilty grin plastered on his face that made Peter's suspicions flare briefly. Maybe it wasn't the kidnapping… maybe Neal was up to something. He pushed the thought aside forcibly.

"I didn't do it." Neal's eyes twinkled playfully.

"What is it that you think, I think you did?" Peter frowned momentarily

"I have no idea." he shrugged "but since I haven't done anything I'm not supposed to… Whatever it is, I obviously didn't do it."

"What makes you think I suspect you of something?" he carefully kept his tone light, hopefully assuring his consultant this was not an interrogation… or an angle Peter was playing against him…

"You have this look… right here…" he gestured vaguely to the area around his eyes "you only get it when you think I did something wrong."

Peter sighed "I don't think you did anything… well, I didn't until you started talking." Neal opened his mouth then closed it sharply, readjusting his grin swiftly. "I called you up here to ask if you are ok."

"I'm fine."

"Really fine or…your idea of fine." Peter smiled quickly.

"Really fine. I told you he didn't hurt me… and he wasn't even on the same playing field as I am mentally… I'm not sure he was even on the same playing field as most sixth graders, actually." Neal's grin grew more natural as he shook his head.

"I'll give you that…" The agent conceded, "you played him like a piano, but something is clearly bothering you this morning. If it isn't the last couple of days…"

"What makes you say that?" the arched eyebrow dared him to continue, the matching smile lighting the younger man's expression with mischief.

"Ok, you don't want to talk to me." Peter frowned slightly at the tiny voice in his head that whispered that Neal not ever trust him again. "I'll let it go for now, but if you want to talk about it, I'm here." he watched the debate rage in the blue eyes for a fraction of a moment, but Neal shook his head.

"Thanks… I appreciate that, but I'm ok." Neal rose smoothly and stepped to the door… Peter sighed inwardly. Whatever trust they had once been building was clearly gone. "Hey Peter?" he stopped with his hand on the glass, looking back "did you ever have a strange conversation… that you didn't know what to do with?" His tone was light, casual, but his eyes bored into the agent intently.

"Yeah… every time I talk to your little friend." Peter grinned when Neal laughed briefly.

"Well there is that." Neal almost laughed again.

"Mozzie acting stranger than normal? Because if he is… it's probably because he was really worried-" the conversation started its loop through his mind again.

"No, oddly enough I wasn't talking about Moz."

"Then what is it?"

"I'll get back to you when I've figured it out… " With that he was gone, headed back to his desk with a grin. Peter drew a relieved breath, it wasn't full disclosure, but Neal wasn't shutting him out entirely. Now he just had to find out what sort of strange conversation his friend was talking about and why it had him so upset.

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"Are you still planning to go through with this idea?" Mozzie burst into the apartment talking before the door was fully open. "You know they will try to find a loop hole to keep you in chains my friend…"

"Yeah, I'm sure." Neal answered absently…his eyes never leaving the skyline as his hands quickly painted the vista.

"Assuming of course you don't get yourself killed trying to pull off this crazy stunt." The small man watched him paint for a few moments, fascination with Neal's talent over taking his thoughts briefly.

"I'll be fine, Moz" he glanced over his shoulder quickly, his hands never stilling.

"Who are you painting?" because the painting really was beautiful and the little man thought he really should recognize the artist.

"What?"

"Who is that?" He nodded to the easel "I don't recognize the style" and he knew all of the masters' styles, or at least he thought he did… obviously his education had missed one.

"What? Oh… I was just… doodling, more or less."

"Are you planning to become a legitimate artist…? I know you were taking about going straight, but may I remind you that the payout is often quite small?" the small man adjusted his glasses as he inspected the painting more closely "Although you are quite good, actually…" better than good really, better than anything new he had seen in a gallery recently honestly. "But your work wouldn't be worth much within your own life time. Maybe if we introduced you then…you happened to …"

"I'm not an artist, Moz."

"I'm just saying…"

"I was just thinking and not paying attention to what I was painting… can we move on, my lunch break is not that long. How is the contract coming?"

"They will be hard pressed to find a loop hole when I am finished."

"Good." His gaze wandered again "I need to ask another favor." The young man finally said.

"Proceed."

"What do you know about Miles Lancaster?"

"I assume this is for something the suits have you working on…"

"Something like that."

"I know he owns a huge steel construction company, beyond that… I can find out."

"He's a legitimate business man?"

"As far as I know."

"But you haven't heard anything about shady dealings?'

"I haven't, but…maybe he's just good."

"Maybe, but if you haven't heard anything at all…"

"If you want I will air all of his closets and see if any skeletons fall out."

"I appreciate that. Look, I have to get back to the office."

"I'll text you when I find something." He eyed the painting on the easel again thoughtfully.

"And Moz don't try to sell the painting… it's not worth anything." Mozzie looked up to catch his friend's easy smile and the sharp ache he couldn't hide deep in his blue eyes.


	2. Chapter 2

Neal had spent the afternoon trying to research the Pink Panthers and what they might be up to, but his mind kept wandering back to his strange conversation from the morning. So when his phone buzzed at 4:32 he grabbed it gratefully.

Mozzie's text was quick and to the point. " ** _Lancaster received big gov contract three months ago. Pulled all resources off other projects. 14,000 employees and all his big equipment. Left 25 jobs unfinished. Something smells…_** " Of course Mozzie saw a conspiracy, though it was a little odd that he dropped all of his other contracts. Neal sent his thanks and tried to turn his attention back to his research, but he soon gave up with a sigh. He never could resist a puzzle and this one just dropped into his lap…

Why did Lancaster want art so badly that he wasn't above hiring a thief to get it for him? Was it really possible that the FBI was looking for an excuse to deny his early release… or worst to keep him in custody indefinitely? He wanted to believe the supposed good guys wouldn't sink that low but the he couldn't put it past them. He believed… knew there were agents who would be horrified by such an idea… Peter, Diana, Jones… came to mind. They wholeheartedly believed in the system they supported. They weren't infallible by any means, the young man had been witness to proof of their humanity, but they were basically decent, honest people and he thought if their superiors tried something like that they would fight it fiercely, but he doubted it would matter. Maybe he should rethink his plan to keep Peter out of it… letting his friend know about the conversation might head off their plan…if there was a plan. He wondered if Peter would believe him, would he take the word of a criminal over his superiors.

Neal frowned, he was getting as paranoid as Mozzie…

Maybe it wasn't as dire as a set up… maybe they were simply testing him, trying to determine his ability to go straight. He could understand that… but that still left the question of whether he should tell Peter or leave him out of it. If it turned out to be dangerous, Elizabeth would not be happy about him getting her husband involved.

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Neal seemed … quieter after lunch. Calmer or lost in thought completely was hard to tell, but he was sitting at his desk and appeared to be getting some work done. Peter had pulled his tracking information from this morning. Nothing interesting came up… the younger man spent nearly an hour at the park before he stopped briefly at a coffee shop and headed to the office. On his lunch break he went home and stayed there, the agent noted. He frowned, something was definitely up… he considered, fleetingly, pulling up the security footage from the park just to see if he could find out what happened there, who Neal met with… Peter sighed and went back to work.

It was six thirty by the time his wife's call reminded him he was supposed to be bringing Neal home for dinner.

"Come on" he told the younger man "Elle wants you to come over."

"Wow… so no option?"

"No option for either of us. I think she has something she wants to tell you."

"Oh." Neal grinned "well luckily I don't have other plans tonight."

Peter watched his friend as he drove… the younger man remained surprisingly quiet until they reached the bridge, apparently lost in thought.

"Peter…" Neal hesitated uncharacteristically "Would your bosses be interested in my ability to go straight before they approve my… release?"

"I'm sure they would be, Neal. Why?" The agent risked a look at his friend

"Would they… test me?"

"Test you how?" Peter turned his gaze more intensely to his passenger. The young man shrugged, before gesturing sharply for him to watch the road and falling quiet again. "Did something happen?"

"What do you know about Miles Lancaster?" Neal asked after several blocks.

"Who?"

"Miles Lancaster, he owns National Steel Construction… Just got a big government contract a few months ago…"

"Never heard of him. Should I have?"

"No. I suppose not."

"Neal… does he have something to do with your "conversation" this morning?"

"He offered me a job." The words seemed to escape before Neal could contain them. The young man dropped his eyes.

"A job?"

"Yeah."

"You have a job."

"Actually I have a work release… job implies I get paid." The brilliant grin didn't quite cover the anger in his friend's eyes, Peter thought. "And can quit." His own anger flared momentarily as he remembered the reason the younger man wasn't free.

"Yeah it does." Several blocks passed in silence. "So a job… what kind of a job?'

"That's where it got weird."

"Weird?"

"He wants an… acquisitions expert."

"A what? He wants you to steal for him?" Peter flinched a bit at the glare Neal sent him. "Sorry…so what exactly is an acquisitions expert?"

"Actually that was my first thought too." His expression softened. "But… he wants me to buy and borrow art for him."

"Why? If he wanted the art honestly why not hire a gallery buyer?"

"I have no idea. I had Mozzie look into him… he couldn't find any shady business."

"Mozzie couldn't find any shady business on a guy who wants you 'procure' art for him? I find that hard to believe."

"Other than he dropped twenty-five active contracts when he got the government one… there's nothing strange about him."

"Besides wanting to hire you." Neal's head shot up and he flinched slightly "you know what I mean. If he wanted you for appraisals it would be understandable but…as a buyer…When most people hire an alleged thief for acquisitions…" he floundered to a stop and shrugged.

"I know." The younger man grinned and the agent hoped it was only his imagination that it seemed a bit forced. The silence that followed edged toward uncomfortable. His conversation with Mozzie played through his head again. Maybe Neal wasn't as able to forgive as he wanted to be.

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Elizabeth's announcement over dinner changed everything. Neal sighed, he knew what he had to do. He was more aware than most people gave him credit for of how much getting to close to him could cost. He had not missed the silent warning in Elizabeth's eyes as she smiled and told him she and Peter were finally going to be parents. "Do not bring anymore chaos into our lives, Neal." Her eyes demanded, and he silently swore he wouldn't. Once he was free… once they brought down the Panthers and he was released he would walk away. He might send a card occasionally, maybe even call once or twice a year, but he would no longer affect their lives. It was probably best for everyone.

He gazed out across the glittering panorama beyond the railing. He smiled, just like the city waited just outside his balcony, the world waited for him just outside his imprisonment. Suddenly Neal knew what he needed to do. The plan came together in his mind fully formed in a moment. If he pulled this off he could start his life over as if Neal Caffrey never existed. He would try to go straight, he fully intended to try, but if he failed… no one would know. None of his friends, his family would be hurt by any of his future actions… or by his past ever again. They would be upset at first, but… it was for the best. He hated to do it to them and he hated to lose his family again, but he could do it. He would do it.

Neal raised his glass in salute to the world. "Here's to truly starting over." He thought, a small sad smile lingering on his lips.

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"Boss?" Diana appeared in his door way.

"Come in. What can I do for you?"

"I ran Lancaster like you asked."

"Anything?"

"As far as I can tell he's clean."

"Thanks'

"Boss there is one thing though that struck me as strange."

"Ok, show me what you've got."

"Lancaster has developed a sudden interest in art… and real estate."

"Real estate. Where?"

"Little town upstate. Less than two thousand people. He bought two thousand acres there in the last six months and moved in a construction crew… almost a hundred people, but as far as anyone in town can tell… he's not building anything."

"He's not building anything? That is a lot of land… to not build anything on."

"Yeah it is. Although… the locals claim that shipments of steel are delivered regularly, and he seems to be digging a hole."

"A hole?"

"A tunnel actually."

"There's nothing illegal about digging a tunnel." He scowled thoughtfully.

"No." she shrugged "But it is strange and it is something."

"It is something." Peter considered quietly "Did his interest in art develop about the same time?"

"It did… and it's no less… intense. He has hired twenty-eight gallery buyers and three museum curators." She shrugged. "I don't think there is an investigation here, boss unless we find something more. The timing is really strange though."

"Strange how?"

"He found his new interests… less than one week after signing that government contract."

Peter frowned. All of this was interesting and very peculiar, but while it might indicate Lancaster's impending mental break down there was nothing illegal about any of it. Which meant Diana was right, they had no grounds on which to continue to investigate the man.

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Neal startled awake to the sound of his door opening. He darted a quick look toward it and breathed a sigh as he recognized Mozzie already stalking his wine rack, apparently trying to read labels in the dim light that filtered in through the windows. The young man glanced at the clock by his bed and smothered a groan.

"You know it is almost two am, right?"

"I am not confined to nine to five hours." The smaller man tossed over his shoulder as he extracted a bottle and moved swiftly into the kitchen to retrieve a glass.

"But I am." Neal pushed himself up and pulled on his undershirt. "Is there a reason you are stealing my wine at this hour or were you just bored?"

"The intelligent man is never bored."

"Then I assume you have a better explanation than Isaac Asimov for why you are here."

"I do…" Mozzie poured himself a generous serving of the beverage before offering it to his friend. Neal shook his head and waited, containing his impatience with an effort, as his friend settled onto his couch. The small man toed off his shoes and made himself comfortable before he continued. "You were right… Lancaster is up to something."

"What is he up to?"

"I don't know." The younger man took a deep breath and smothered his exasperation.

"What **do** you know, that couldn't wait until morning."

"He hired Evan."

"Evan? Forty-Third Street Evan? Your new favorite fence, Evan?"

"Yes." Mozzie frowned "And he's not my favorite fence, but Alex is out of the country. He is good though… one of the best… reminds me a bit of you when I first met you… young, enthusiastic… no artistic talent unfortunately, but…"

"Lancaster hired him… for what?"

"Wants him to 'find' certain items for him… no questions asked."

"What items?"

"Evan didn't know. Lancaster wasn't specific. He said he wanted anything the kid came across that was historically or culturally important. Which is very odd."

"You're talking about odd, Moz?"

"I just thought you would appreciate the information." He frowned up at his young friend.

"Thanks Moz, I do appreciate it." Neal covered a yawn "Now if you don't mind drinking quietly I'm going back to bed. I need to be up at six. Save me at least one glass of that, it's a very nice vintage."

)()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()(

"Special Agent Peter Burke?" the young man asked as he shifted his brief case from one hand to the other and absently brushed his blond hair back from his eyes. Peter quickly sized him up. Wire rimmed glasses perched on a thin nose, greenish hazel eyes backlit by the idealism of a kid recently out of college. The boy's whole appearance radiated assistant. Neal dropped his feet from the desk and sat up straight, his expression suddenly wary

"Yes, that is me."

"My boss, Senator Henry Ross would like to see you… immediately if it is convenient."

"I'm busy at the moment, how's two- thirty tomorrow afternoon."

"Mr. Ross is leaving town tomorrow. He would like to see you today, please." The kid pushed his glasses up quickly.

"I see."

"The senator is on an understandably tight schedule, you see."

"I see."

"And as a federal agent you have a certain responsibility to those who represent the federal government."

"I do, but that doesn't mean I'm at their beck and call."

"Agent Burke, Mr. Ross elected not to send his personal security team to retrieve you, but he would very much like you to join him for lunch." The assistant spoke anxiously. Neal made a barely audible noise drawing Peter's eyes to his friend. The younger man frowned and shook his head fiercely, clearly nervous.

"You'll forgive me, but the last time a senator came around here making demands… He was a less than honest person."

"I assure you, Mr. Ross is not a threat to you Agent Burke, but he would like to speak to you." The agent's cautious mind warned him to be careful, but curiosity made him nod.

"Alright, let me secure my computer and I'll be right with you."

"Thank you." The man adjusted his brief case again and stepped out of the room to wait.

"This is a very bad idea, Peter." Neal hissed

"You're going to lecture me about bad ideas." He raised his eyebrow

"You're telling me you don't think there is something funny about a senator suddenly demanding to see you right now? With the Panthers in town and the whole Lancaster thing in the works…"

"Of course there is. It makes me wonder what we stirred up that got his attention."

"And you are still going to just walk in there alone."

"I highly doubt he's going to try to hurt me."

"How about end your career… your wife is pregnant. You have to be careful you need your job."

"I'll be fine. You get to work on that report you owe me." Neal sighed and threw his hands up in an exaggerated shrug.


	3. Chapter 3

"Thank you for joining me Agent Burke.' Senator Ross rose to greet him, his perfectly manicured hand extended. "Please have a seat, lunch will be served momentarily." He waved to the chair opposite him at the exquisitely laid table. Peter allowed himself a look around the luxurious hotel suite for a long moment before taking his seat. He fixed the senator with a suspicious gaze.

"What can I do for you, Senator?"

"Straight to the point. I like that." The distinguished man smiled a politician's smile "But please let's enjoy our lunch before we get down to the reason for your visit." He waved to the staff waiting quietly near the wall.

"I have a very busy day scheduled."

"As do I, Agent Burke, but there is always time to enjoy a good meal." He smiled appreciatively as shallow bowls of creamy tomato bisque were placed in front of them. "Please try the soup… it is remarkable." Peter reluctantly took a small bite. The soup was good, Neal would have appreciated it more than he did, but he could admit it was good. Several minutes passed without another mention of the reason for his presence. The bowls were quickly cleared away and replaced by small artfully arranged salads.

"Senator… why am I here?" he watched the older man sigh and lay his fork on the edge of his plate.

"I understand, Peter… May I call you Peter, that you recently ran the name Miles Lancaster through the system."

"That's possible" he hedged "We run a lot of names through our system in the White Collar office."

"I'm sure that is true, and I have no desire to interfere with your investigations, but… do you have any solid evidence of Mr. Lancaster committing a crime?"

"I'm not sure that is any of your business." Peter tensed preparing for an assault, verbal or otherwise.

"You're right of course, but I need to request a favor. Mr. Lancaster currently holds an incredibly important contract for the federal government." The senator glanced around quickly to insure none of his staff was close enough to overhear. "It would be very difficult for us to replace him at this point."

"There are hundreds of steel construction companies in the US. Surely it wouldn't be that hard to find another one to do the job."

"Do the job? Yes, but do it discretely… and manage to keep their employees discrete as well… it is much more… challenging."

"So you want me to drop an investigation for your convenience?"

"No, not drop, Peter… postpone until he has fulfilled his contract."

"How long would you want me to postpone?" he hedged carefully… he had no intention of playing this game, but Ross didn't have to know that until after he was safely out of here.

"Not long. Less than a year. This contract is extremely important. I cannot stress its importance enough."

"And if I refuse to postpone."

"Then we finish our lunch and go our separate ways." The senator shrugged helplessly and flashed his public smile again.

"No threats? Or bribe attempts?"

"Would you be open to a bribe or intimidated by a threat?"

"No"

"You didn't strike me as the type who would be." Another weary sigh slipped out of the politician's lips and Peter noticed the tension in the man's posture for the first time. "So I am left with asking you to please consider your duty to your country and wait… just a few months to continue this investigation."

"I see."

"May I ask, why are you looking into him? Miles has always been a rather straight arrow."

"He was witnessed attempting to hire a known thief, by a federal operative, to acquire fine art for him." to Peter's surprise the older man chuckled suddenly.

"I can't say I am surprised after my last meeting with him. He waxed surprisingly eloquent on the subject of art. Please, Peter, eat your salad. The dressing is excellent…"

"I have a friend who does the same thing frequently."

"Oddly enough I didn't know Lancaster even knew anything about the subject… he seems a very simple man…but he was quite passionate."

"Does his sudden interest in culture have anything to do with your contract with him?"

"I'm afraid I can't discuss the particulars of that subject, Peter"

"Of course not." He smiled grimly. They fell into small talk after that… despite his misgivings Peter had to admit the rest of the meal was impressive.

)()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()(

Neal was not worried and he was definitely not pacing… he just felt the need to walk to the break room three times in the last few minutes. He had gone to lunch after Peter left with the senator's assistant, taken his time over his meal before he came back to work, even taken a stroll around the block. He'd still been sitting at his desk for over an hour now and he was beginning to get a little concerned for his friend. Their last encounter with a senator had not ended well. Neal sighed, at that definite understatement.

The elevator opened with a soft chime and he took a deep breath as Peter walked off, apparently unhurt and clearly not under arrest.

"Enjoy your lunch, Peter?" The young man asked, grinning as he noticed a small stain on his friend's tie that had not been there earlier.

"It was… impressive."

"Impressive? Dinning is delicious or decadent not impressive."

"It is when it is intended to make an impression" Peter smiled and shook his head as Neal opened his mouth to speak. "Your pal Lancaster has important friends."

"The senator wanted to discuss Lancaster?"

"He did."

"Why?"

"I…" the agent hesitated "I ran his name yesterday."

"Of course you did. And I assume you weren't planning to tell me." Neal couldn't keep the bite out of his tone.

"I was actually, I planned to tell what I found over lunch today, but…" he shrugged "Neal it wasn't about trusting you… the whole situation just sounded like a set up. I mean a straight laced business man suddenly decides to hire a former thief to obtain priceless art? What you said about my superiors testing you… it made me think. What if they were looking to find a way to keep you working for us? I had to look into it."

"And what did you find?" he pushed passed the sting of the omission.

"He's buying art like crazy. He's hired nearly thirty experts to get it and now apparently he is looking into people who won't mind coloring outside the lines a little."

"Like me…" Neal paused, weighing the consequences "and Evan."

"Who's Evan?"

"A kid Moz knows. He's a fence. Mozzie says he reminds him a little of me. He's twenty- two… maybe twenty three. Lancaster hired him to be on the lookout for valuable pieces. He's just a kid… keep him out of it."

"Older than you were when I caught you." Peter studied his friend. "This Evan kid… he took the job?"

"I guess. Lancaster offers good money."

"I think you should call him back and tell him you'll do it."

"I'm guessing you aren't thinking about me needing a job, are you?"

"I'm not."

"Your new government friend is not going to like this."

"He told me I was free to investigate… he doesn't want Lancaster arrested until he finishes his contract."

"You aren't going to wait, are you?"

"Nope."

"You haven't forgotten the last time we took on a corrupt senator, have you?" the older man's lips tightened and his brown eyes darkened slightly. Neal tried to cover the flinch that look inspired. Of course he hadn't forgotten… that encounter had almost cost him everything. The younger man doubted his friend had entirely forgiven him for that, or for what he'd done to make it right.

"No, Neal I haven't, but justice is still justice."

)()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()(

"Neal, we'll be listening all you need to do is find out what he wants you to get and how far he is willing for you to go to get it." Peter smiled, covering his doubts. The evidence that Lancaster was up to something illegal was very tenuous, but his gut was screaming that something was going on… something much bigger than a man offering Neal a job.

"Really, Peter, are you sure this is a good idea? I should be waiting for Woodford to contact me." The younger man said quietly, hesitation written all over his face. The older man winced inwardly. There had been a time when Neal talked about staying on the team once he was free, now he couldn't wait to be released. The conversation with Mozzie played through his head again. Neal might be forgiving, but his trust had been repeatedly broken… it wasn't surprising he wanted a little distance.

"He'll contact you when he does. If that is today just excuse yourself." He frowned. "Neal, I need you to answer me honestly. I know things have been… rough… for you the last few months." He watched Neal contain what might have been a sharp laugh at the understatement. "And some things were said that… I mean, are we alright… really?"

"We're good. You didn't say anything that wasn't true." If he hadn't been watching so closely he would have missed the flash of emotion that flared in his friend's blue eyes. Sad resignation, he thought, not anger, but painful acceptance before a gentle smile pushed it away. "Can we just get this done?"

"We can. You are a little early for your appointment. Do you want to wait a few minutes before you go in?"

"If I stay here are we going to have to talk about feelings because I know how that gets you flustered?" Jones and Diana snickered quietly reminding Peter they were witnessing this.

"Just go. And Neal? Be careful."

"I always am." With a quick grin he was gone.

Through the audio feed they heard him greet the receptionist and walk down the hallway toward Mr. Lancaster's office. The team heard his footsteps falter and a long breathless silence. Then Neal spoke softly

"Looks like Mr. Lancaster's previous meeting isn't over."

"Be careful, Neal."

"He's got three senators, two Generals and the Secretary of State in there." Neal's voice dropped lower. "I'm going to see if I can get close enough to see what they are saying."

"No, Neal!" Peter hissed, knowing that the young man wasn't going to listen to him. "We aren't here to investigate his contract."

"We are if it has something to do with why he's trying to hire me." The breathy whisper was barely audible, before the consultant fell silent. Several minutes passed with only Neal's quiet breathing drifting through the feed. Suddenly the young man gave a sharp gasp and then swallowed harshly.

"What's wrong!? Neal? Are you ok?"

"Yeah I'm fine" the whisper only relieved the tension in the van marginally, because the three agents had never heard their friend sound so… shaken. Hurried footsteps reached them as Neal whispered "looks like the meeting is breaking up."

"Ahh Mr. Caffrey! I'm so glad you have decided to take me up on my offer. I promise you will be adequately compensated for your work." Lancaster's voice came through loud and clear a few minutes later.

"Actually I'm not interested in compensation." The agents exchanged a startled look at the raw sincerity in Neal's breathless voice. He wasn't even trying to hide his nervousness or worse… he couldn't.

"Well I must admit that surprises me, Mr. Caffrey." Lancaster chuckled.

"I overheard part of your previous meeting. I know why you are doing this. Do you really think you can preserve the art?" there was an edge of desperation in his tone that worried the agents…

"Yes I do." The forced friendliness faded from Lancaster's voice.

"Then count me in. Is it just visual art you are interested in?" Neal still sounded almost dazed and at the end of his control.

"No. Music, performing arts, literature, history…"

"I understand. Thank you for allowing me to be a part of this. What pieces precisely would you like me to acquire." His voice trembled roughly.

"Whatever moves you Mr. Caffrey." Lancaster said quietly "Whatever moves you."

)()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()(

Neal was shaking, Diana observed as he sank into his seat. He was shaking and quiet, his face was pale and his blue eyes stared vacantly at the floor. She froze, Pale … shaking… shock!

"Caffrey, you ok?" he slowly pulled his eyes up to meet hers. His head dipped in a sharp nod. "Are you sure?" Diana lay her hand on his arm, she was starting to get worried as his silence persisted.

"I'm fine." He said quietly before his gaze slid back to the floor. Diana looked up and caught Peter's eye. She mouthed "Shock" and his eyes widened with concern.

"Caffrey? Neal can you take off your jacket for me?" She said gently, ignoring the surprised looks from Jones and the younger agents. The young man nodded, but made no move to do so. She didn't see any sign of an injury, but the consultant's dark suit might be hiding blood, she thought or the injury could be internal. "Caffrey!" he looked up at her "Take off your jacket." When he finally slid his arms out of the coat without a flirtatious joke her worry climbed rapidly. She could see the same expression in Peter's eyes. Something was seriously wrong, but Neal's light blue shirt bore no stain.

"Neal?" Peter moved closer "Are you hurt?"

He shook his head "No."

"Then what's wrong?" they watched the young man take a slow deep breath, visibly trying to calm himself, to control his body's reaction by sheer force of will. He clenched his shaking hands into white knuckled fists and closed his eyes.

"I'm sorry."

"Did Lancaster drug you?"

"No."

"Did he give you anything to eat… or drink?"

"You thinking poison, Boss?" Diana asked, he shrugged helplessly

"I'm fine." She watched Caffrey franticly trying to pull himself together.

"What happened, Neal?" Peter studied his friend closely.

"I'm sorry, Peter, nothing happened I just…" his voice trailed off. "Have you ever overheard a conversation you wished you could unhear?"

"Occasionally…"he frowned and Diana matched his expression.

"Ignorance really is bliss, Peter." The younger man shook his head with tremendous sorrow.

"What did you hear, Neal?" Diana exchanged another look with her superior. Had their friend overheard an assassination plan… or something equally troubling?

"We're all going to die…" he said so softly she barely heard him as he looked up and met their eyes gravely then, his voice still barely a whisper "Have you ever heard of an E.L.E?"


	4. Chapter 4

Stunned silence fell between them as Peter tried to absorb what his friend had told them. He glanced up at Diana catching her gaze. A mask of disbelief covered her features.

"An E.L.E.?!" Diana said in surprise and horror. Neal managed to shoot her a warning glance despite his own obvious torment.

"Ignorance is bliss, Diana." He whispered looking significantly at the other agents just a few feet away. Peter placed a hand on Neal's back guiding him to his feet.

"I think we are going to take him in to be checked out… just to be sure he's ok." he announced calmly though his hands were suddenly shaking.

"Probably a good plan." Jones agreed. Peter followed Neal outside while Diana trailed in their wake…

"An E.L.E? You mean an Extinction Level Event?!" she hissed fiercely as soon as the van door closed behind them.

"Yes." He met her eyes… keeping his tone as calm as he could manage.

"You are talking about the end of the world, Caffrey!" She snapped.

"I know…" he shuttered "Believe me I know." Peter felt the tremors return to Neal's rigid back.

"What did they say exactly?" Peter asked. He spoke in a gentle placating tone. His expression clearly said he was worried about his consultant's sanity. Neal managed to shoot him an offended glare despite his still shaken appearance.

"I didn't catch all of it." Neal swallowed harshly, maintaining his carefully assembled control "I couldn't hear them I was reading lips through the glass."

"Ok, what did you see?" Diana growled shortly.

"They mentioned the E.L.E. and something about building bunkers… I think that is where Lancaster's contract comes in." He shrugged helplessly

"Did they say when?" Diana asked "Are you sure this is happening in our life time… they could be planning for something a hundred years from now…" she said with desperate hope. Neal flinched, thinking of Theo… just two months old, who would probably never grow up and if he did… what kind of a world would he grow up in?

"They were talking months." He said sadly "I'm sorry." He swallowed hard. He couldn't look her in the eye, as though it was his fault somehow that a huge chunk of stone was hurtling through space to steal their future.

"Months?" Peter nearly choked, clearly thinking of his pregnant wife. "Months… how many months…"

"I don't know…I think they mentioned spring." He looked at the older man, horror dawning in his eyes as he remembered. "Oh G** Peter I'm so sorry!" He dropped his gaze. Diana's son would never learn to talk … and Peter and Elizabeth's baby might never even be born… tears stung his eyes, but he didn't let them escape. After all he was the one in this conversation with the least to lose.

"What?" Diana looked between them

"Elizabeth's pregnant… we just found out… she's due in May." Peter said it so quietly it was almost lost in the overwhelming silence that roared in their ears, but his pain echoed clearly.

Peter wrapped his arms around her waist, quietly clinging to his wife as his hand settled over the spot where his child rested in her womb. She smiled gently. He knew she could feel the tension bleeding off him no matter how hard he tried to hide it.

"Rough day, Hon?" she carefully extradited herself from his embrace and turned to face him. He dropped his eyes. He didn't keep secrets from Elizabeth, but he couldn't tell her what he learned today… he would not tell her. She was so excited about finally becoming a mother, she had even been looking at nursery décor already. He refused to take that joy away from her, but she always knew when something was on his mind.

"Yeah." He sighed, forcing his gaze up to meet her eyes. He read the concern and love in them and managed a wobbly smile.

"What did Neal do?" the innocent question sparked a moment of irrational anger at the younger man. Neal should have kept his horrible knowledge to himself. Better yet he should have waited patiently to meet with Lancaster instead of spying on the earlier cession… The anger was foolish and even Peter knew it, ignorance would not change what was coming. He pushed the anger aside and sighed again.

"Nothing." At his wife's raised eyebrow he found a chuckle on his lips. "Nothing worse than on a normal day. He stole my wallet again this morning…" That was actually true. "Which oddly enough is a relief. He hasn't done that in a while… since my promotion actually. I think it means we are back on comfortable footing" Elle shook her head and smiled.

"Then that's good I guess." She still wasn't entirely sure how big of a role she wanted Neal to play in their future, Peter knew, but she didn't know how short that future would be. He swallowed hard. "So if it isn't Neal… what is wrong?"

"It's just our current case, Hon… We found something disturbing… I can't really discuss it." he stumbled over the words before he pulled away "I'm going to go take a shower before dinner." With that he rushed up the stairs and into the bathroom. He just got the shower running before the tears got away from him. He stood under the hot water until it ran cold while he sobbed for all that would never be.

Stepping out of the shower he felt better. He wouldn't give up hope, he still had a few months to think… and they were building bunkers for a reason…

The rocking chair squeaked slightly on its gliders as she sat in the dark nursery. Theo slept peacefully in her arms blissfully unaware of his mother's turmoil. She should put him in his crib and go to bed, Diana thought, but she couldn't bring herself to break the contact with his warm little body. The baby stirred slightly and sighed, his breath feather soft against her cold skin. The young woman ran a shaky hand through her hair as her mind played the conversation from the van on a constant loop.

"They were talking months… spring… spring…" She swallowed forcefully. Diana was a strong independent woman, top of her class at Quantico, an excellent field agent for the FBI because she could take down any man no matter his size… she was not crying, even if her cheeks were damp. Her breath caught in her chest, escaping with a sound that was suspiciously close to a sob. Her baby… her beautiful little boy that she decided to have on her own last year was never going to grow up. He was going to die before he learned to walk or talk or… And not just Theo… her mind wandered to her parents… her friends at the office… everyone she knew and loved would be dead by the end of spring. She choked… and then she was crying, really crying, clutching her sleeping child and weeping for the future he would never have… that they would never have.

Theo woke fussing at her tight grasp and she shifted him to eat. Defiantly she dried her tears. One break down. She had allowed herself one break down, now it was time to start thinking, because her baby was going to have future… no matter what she had to do to insure that, he would grow up. She just needed a plan.

The city lights sparkled over the river, beautiful and alive… Neal sat his wine glass absently on the balustrade and leaned against the stone, lost in thought. Looking up he could see just a faded scattering of stars in the dark sky. He wondered for a moment if one of them was the monster coming to destroy them. The clock in his kitchen said it was nearly three in the morning, but it didn't matter, he would not sleep tonight.

Earlier when he first realized what the men and women in that meeting were discussing he had been horrified… sick and shocked. Now… now he closed his eyes and let the early morning breeze wash over his face, carrying the faint traffic noises to his ears from below. He felt a soft serenity invade his thoughts as he accepted the truth. Life was unpredictable, often shocking cruel, you took the good you could find and let the rest go… and it really was a magnificent view.

He had accepted the inevitable… he would not live to see another summer, he would never be free as he had hoped when he left his apartment yesterday morning. He would die with the anklet firmly in place, but he could not accept that fate for those he cared about. The faces of his friends… his family, floated through his mind. Peter and Elizabeth would hold their child, Diana would watch Theo grow into the strong man Neal didn't doubt he would become, June would see her great grandchildren, and Mozzie would find his niche in the world that would emerge from the ashes of this one… one by one he thought of Alex, Sara, and Jones…

The foundations of a plan were already being laid in his imagination. Obviously the selection process, whatever that might be, for the public bunkers was too much of a gamble. He needed to get closer to Mr. Lancaster… he was the key and Neal needed to learn to read him clearly… and the best way to do that was to get the man what he wanted… in vast quantities.

Getting the art appealed to him anyway. Saving that beauty, that piece of what made humanity… human for future generations… it made him a part of something bigger. It made him forever a part of the paintings and sculptures he protected. Even if no one ever remembered he once walked this earth, a part of him would still exist in the art he left behind.

Stepping reluctantly away from the terrace he pulled out his easel and set it up. He let his mind continue to pick at the problems he still had to resolve while he lost himself in the painting that took shape under his steady hands…

Everything would work out in the end… for those he loved anyway.


	5. Chapter 5

Jones watched his coworkers from his desk with suspicion. Something happened yesterday. That much he knew for certain. He heard Caffrey's sharp gasp over the audio and saw his pale face and trembling hands when he returned. That in itself was extremely peculiar. Neal was never rattled… not like that. He had seen the kid staring down the shaft of a steel tipped hunting arrow half a second from release and Caffrey had still managed to crack a joke and take care of business. Yesterday though the consultant had been seemingly unable to form coherent a sentence. Today Peter, Diana and Caffrey were all pretending it didn't happen as far as Jones could tell, but the tension that stretched between them was thick enough to slice.

Neal strolled in first, wearing his up to something grin with dark circles under his eyes and paint under his manicured fingernails. He clutched a large cup of coffee like it was a lifeline. His suit was impeccable, everything perfectly in place except for a slightly crooked tie bar. His step was confident, but his eyes were thoughtful. He greeted Jones as pleasantly as ever before he dropped into his seat almost wearily and logged into his computer. Whatever he was doing he was intensely focused on it until Peter stepped through the door.

Peter looked rumpled and tense when he hurried in, also clutching a paper cup of coffee tightly. His shoulders were slumped just slightly, and his face set in a tight mask. The expression in his brown eyes flickered between worried tension and intense grief, when he let any expression show at all. He glanced at Neal with a pained expression as he walked passed his desk and sighed deeply. The younger man looked up from whatever he was working on and offered his friend a small, almost encouraging, smile before turning back to his computer. A few minutes later the younger man follower Peter to his office.

Diana came in last, almost late. She looked exhausted, but she gave Jones a quick, sharp smile before vanishing into the break room for a cup of coffee. She glanced up at Peter's office as she returned to her desk. Seeing Peter and Caffrey already inside she frowned… hesitated a moment, then shrugged and hurried up to join them.

Yeah, the younger agent decided silently, something was definitely up and he wondered how long it would be before they brought him into the loop and if he really wanted in.

)()()()()()()()()()()()()()()(

"I need to be involved in Lancaster's project, Peter. Not as a sting, but really involved with getting him the art and musical works and historical artifacts that he wants." Neal focused on keeping his tone calm and reasonable. He could not appear desperate… to much was riding on his being able to convince his friend to give him the leeway he needed.

"Neal…"

"I know the Bureau won't release me unless they want to… and I know I promised to help bring down the Panthers in exchange, but you and I both know how pointless that is now." Peter furrowed his forehead and sighed "I'm not asking for release… not any more, just a little wiggle room. A few hours each day that no one is checking my tracker so that I can find the items…"

"Why?" Diana asked quietly "Wouldn't our time be better spent trying to find a way to save ourselves." Her eye shone with fierce determination. Neal saw her expression mirrored in Peter's eyes. He dropped his eyes and drew a deep breath.

"I agree the two of you should focus on finding a way to save yourselves and your loved ones… they are building bunkers and if anyone deserves to have a spot in them it is you two." He steeled himself, he really hadn't expected to have to explain this to them and it was going to sound a lot like a play for sympathy. "But there will be no spot for me."

"You don't know that." Peter began

"I do actually and if you look at it logically you will understand why. They are building shelters for a limited number of people to save the human race… they will want the best and the brightest to fill those slots… they may say the selection is random, but it won't be…at least there will be parameters, healthy, certain ages, able to have children… and there is one group of people who will definitely not be invited…"

"Convicted felons." Neal frowned at the small crack in Diana's voice as she realized what he was saying.

"It's ok… really it is." He smiled calmly "but if I am going to die in a few months… I want to make my mark on the world. This art… these things… it will allow me to be part of something bigger than myself. In every piece I help preserve I will gain a little bit of immortality. I will be remembered."

"Neal, we'll find a way for all of us to be safe… that includes you." The older man's voice caught on the words.

"I appreciate the thought, Peter, I really do, but right now I'm not worried about me. So much is going to be lost… so many people… so much that is beautiful in this world… so much of what makes humanity human… I have the chance to protect a small portion of that. I need to do this. I promise I will show up for work every morning and give you a full day, but after hours… I just need a little slack in my leash. That's all I'm asking."

"Ok." Neal opened his mouth to continue his argument, before he realized what his friend said… he blinked in surprise for a moment.

"Ok?"

"Yeah, you can do what you need to if you promise me one thing."

"Anything."

"Stealing is your very last resort."

"Deal. I will beg, borrow, and lie before I ever think of stealing." Neal couldn't contain his grin. He was free to work on phase one of his rudimentary plan… and once Lancaster was happy with his work ethic he could move on to phase two…

)()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()(

"I almost have the contract ready, Mon Frere but you can't rush me." Mozzie answered the phone, his tone defensive. "These things take time if you want them done well."

"I know" Neal drew in a breath and prepared himself for his friend's reaction "I want you to forget about the contract… I have something more important I need you to work on."

"Forget the contract? It is your ticket to freedom! You are giving up on that?!"

"I have more important things to worry about. Lancaster offered me a job."

"A job? What kind of job?"

"The kind that pays enough to make it worth our while."

"What exactly does this job entail?"

"We are getting him art, music, rare or first printing literature and historical artifacts."

"How concerned is Mr. Lancaster with the legality of these acquisitions?"

"Not overly, but he would prefer as legal as possible."

"I assume he is providing the funding?

"Absolutely."

"And this job is worth staying bound?"

"Yes, it is, Moz." Neal fought to keep his voice calm and relaxed. Mozzie would pick up on the slightest trace of concern that he let slip. "It definitely is"

"What are you planning to tell the Suit? Or do you expect me to find all of these things?"

"Peter is willing to let me have a little space to work a 'legitimate' job."

"Really? Is he sick, because that is highly out of character for your government minder…?"

"He's fine, Moz." He wished he could explain everything to his little friend, but the panic that knowledge would incite in the nervous man would do no one any good.

"So what do you want me to do?"

"Peter has given me a little reduction of my restrictions, but I'm still pretty much confined to a small area… I have to be at work every day."

"So you need my freedom of movement."

"I need you start with the East Coast… I need the names of every gallery and museum from Maine to the Florida Keys along with what they have on exhibit."

"You could use the internet."

"I could, but it doesn't have your vast insight on art." It wouldn't hurt to remind his friend of his value.

"Ahh flattery…charming." Neal could practically hear the small man pushed his glasses up smoothly "I suspect there is more you want from me."

"I also need you to check every book store and library you can find for early editions of great novels."

"Am I to bring said novels back with me?"

"Yes, if you can… when you find them let me know and I'll provide the funds." Neal smiled "I'll cover everything within fifty miles of New York, maybe a hundred on weekends. You will have to take rest of the world. Time is of the essence Moz…"

"Noted" the little man said quickly before he disconnected the call.

)()()()()()()()()()()()()()()(

Neal looked tired, Peter noted from his office as the younger man walked briskly up the stairs. He still moved with the bounce of child, but dark circles were forming under his eyes and when he sat… he often sat still, which was… abnormal. The young man put on a good show, but if Peter could tell he was tired Neal was exhausted. The agent knew why. He checked the tracker's movements every morning, and for the last two weeks Neal was rarely home more than a few hours at a time. He spend his evenings wining and dining wealthy art collectors and his nights trapesing all over the seedier parts of the city… apparently tracking down pieces available on the black market. His weekends had been spend in galleries, museums and book stores discussing sales and loans of hundreds of works… last weekend alone he went to fourteen different venues.

Neal's hard work was paying off too. When Peter dropped by for a visit last night the young man's apartment was brimming with paintings and sculptures of every shape and size. Heaps of old books littered his normally immaculate floor. Paintings were being pulled from their wooden frames and carefully rolled up… art tubes were scattered over every possible surface. In the midst of all of this chaos Neal stood at his easel in worn sweat pants and thin undershirt, paint splattered and smudged on his hands and smeared across his cheek. He had looked up and smiled to acknowledge his friend's presence before returning to the painting before him, a stunning piece that clearly showed children playing in a park…it wasn't realistic precisely, the perspective was unnaturally low making the slide look impossibly high, but the details were crisp and intense. Peter smiled…

"Not a forgery I hope…I don't recognize the artist"

"Because there isn't one." Neal spared him another glance "I've been experimenting a little to help me relax." Peter nodded…

"You have been pushing yourself pretty hard."

"I have to… I only have a few months."

"Looks like you are having good luck." He gestured at the clutter.

"So far." He sighed, a weary sound like the soft rain falling against the French doors. "There is so much that is beautiful out there and I know I can't save it all, but I keep thinking of pieces that I can't imagine not existing anymore."

"I can think of a few things like that myself."

"All that baseball memorabilia at Yankee Stadium?" Neal teased with a big smile, but his eyes grew thoughtful.

"Among other things… I was actually thinking of the quilts my grandmother and her friends used to make. And the old Victorian furniture my great aunt inherited from her grandmother… but it would be a shame to see all that baseball history lost too."

"Oh…" Neal frowned his expression growing pensive "We'll never be able to save everything. We can't even scratch the surface." He ran paint stained hands through his hair leaving smudges in his disheveled locks.

"No, we can't…" he helped himself to a beer and poured his friend a glass of wine from the bottle on the counter. He held up the bottle "Mozzie's been here I take it."

"No, I haven't seen him… he's taking care of somethings for me, but he checks in every night. That's from yesterday." Peter nodded and let the silence settle while he brought the drinks into the living space

"Neal, if there is anything I can help with…"

"Have you told Elizabeth?" the younger man asked abruptly

"Not yet. I plan to… but I just can't think how to start the conversation. She is going to be devastated. She's wanted to be a mother her whole life and now…" He trailed off with a helpless shrug.

"It's going to be alright, Peter." The sudden optimism of his friend brought the agent's eyes up. "You and Elizabeth will be ok. I'm sure of it. Who knows…? "

"You know something I don't?"

"No, but I'm working on it."

"You're working on it? Why does that worry me as much as the big chunk of rock hurtling toward us?"

"Just try to trust me."

"With my life? That's the easy part. " He shook his head "Just promise whatever it is, it isn't at the cost of someone else." Neal's shot him an offended look.

"I can promise that." He agreed

"Good… I'm going to go get some rest." Peter stared at his friend intensely "You might want to consider doing the same."

"I'll be ok."

The older man had left him to his painting after that, knowing Neal wouldn't be sleeping anytime soon.

Now he was approaching Peter's office with his trade mark grin firmly on his face. The agent wondered how long he would be able to keep that smooth veneer in place.


	6. Chapter 6

"This is extraordinary, Mr. Caffrey" Lancaster turned slowly to observe the large storage area and its contents. He looked truly pleased.

"Please, it's Neal, Mr. Lancaster." The young man offered the precise amount of humble pride to match his words. "It is a start… I have every intention to keep working just as hard."

"A truly remarkable accomplishment." The business man picked up one of the heavy musty books stacked on a small crate beside him. "How you got so much for me in just six weeks is… astounding."

"Well knowing the reason for your project is quite an incentive. Future generations are depending on your plan to have access to all that man has created in the past."

"I trust you are keeping that knowledge under your hat, Neal." Lancaster smiled nervously

"If there is one thing I know how to do, it's how to keep a secret."

"I do not doubt that, Neal…"

"Speaking of those future generations… they will exist, right? Without a doubt."

"Absolutely" Lancaster smiled sadly "I suppose it can't hurt for you to know. My company is building twenty bunkers deep underground… each one is designed to hold one hundred and fifty thousand people, a certain number of animals and plants as well as food and medical supplies…"

"That's only three million people… less than one percent of the population of the United States…" horror crept into Neal's voice despite his resolve to be calm

"I know… of course that is only in this country… other nations are working on their own population survival plans."

"Still… even if every nation in the world does as well… that is ninety- nine percent of the world's population wiped out…" he nearly choked as a sob fought to escape his throat… "They don't expect any survivors on the surface?"

"Very few… A rock the size of Manhattan is coming down in middle of the Atlantic at roughly ten thousand miles per hour… it's not going to be pretty."

"I can imagine." Neal could unfortunately imagine the four thousand foot wave that would sweep out from that… obliterating the coasts of four continents in mere minutes, surging relentlessly inland until mountain ranges broke it. The earthquakes and eruptions that would follow, as well as the dust thrown up by the impact would darken the sky for years. Acid rain would obliterated surviving plants. He suppressed a shutter "I hope you are guaranteed a place in one of your shelters"

"I am… As well as my wife and two daughters."

"That's good." He managed a tremulous smile.

After a moment he continued "I assume from your description of the bunkers your personal mission is not exactly government sanctioned."

"It's not, but no one cares… there simply isn't space to store all of this…" He gently fingered an intricately designed antique quilt wrapped around a three hundred year old writing desk "the accommodations will be somewhat… cramped. This is brilliant by the way… using the quilts, afghans and rugs as packing"

"I hope to get some of the clothing from the Smithsonian and other museums to wrap some of the smaller items as well."

"Excellent, well if there is anything you need…"

"Actually there is … I need you to hire two ladies."

"Why?"

"Because they are very good at what they do, and they would be assets to your project."

"Ok, who are these ladies?"

"Alex Hunter… she's a fence, she can find any item of value for you. She will want to be compensated, of course, but she is the best. Sara Ellis… she is an insurance recovery specialist at Sterling Bosch. She is remarkably good at her job and she has access to thousands of private collections."

"I appreciate the suggestions, I can't guarantee hires, but I'll look into your friends."

"Thank you… I have another question Mr. Lancaster… we are collecting all of this great art… would you be interested in the works of unknown talents?"

"Assuming you consider them truly talented, Neal… yes I would be."

"Thank you for the vote of confidence." He smiled and turned to leave. Just inside the door he paused… reminded himself to take a slow breath "Oh Mr. Lancaster I assume a significant change in the landscape is likely… after everything… I hope the art we save will not be… misplaced."

"What do you mean?"

"With no one to look after it I hope you can find it again once you come out." He offered a concerned look. "It's too bad someone can't stay with them." Then he turned and walked away… the first seed had been planted.

)()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()(

She was just a kid… no more than sixteen at best, Neal guessed. She looked even younger with charcoal smudged across the bridge of her nose and onto her right cheek. Intelligent honey colored eyes studied the landscape around her and the large sketch pad on the cheap easel in front of her as she perched on the park bench. The fading evening light accented the shadows under her cheek bones and the incredible talent in the drawing she was rapidly creating for a slightly impatient looking tourist with an expensive camera. The drawing was cityscape with prominent details in crisp focus while the sky swirled in a shapes reminiscent of Van Gogh in black and white.

Neal waited while she finished her piece noticing the goosebumps on her caramel colored skin and slightly emancipated appearance of her frame. He took note of the bulky back pack tucked under her feet and the faded, worn quality of her clothing. Her customer thanked her stiffly and paid for his drawing before bustling off to get his camera out of Central Park before darkness settled.

"Hi" the girl began, clearly hoping for another customer "How can I help you?"

"I was hoping to help you actually. You are a very talented young woman."

"Oh No." she shook her head fiercely, her eyes flashing "I don't play that game. I draw, that's what I do. If you want more than that you can check the other end of the park." She busied herself packing up her supplies.

"I want you to draw… you have an incredible gift." He bit his cheek trying not to think that this girl… this child would be dead in a little more than five months…. The middle of April… he pushed the thoughts firmly from his mind and focused on the moment. "I work for an art collector and he is very interested in new talents." He gave her his best smile "I'm Neal, why don't we discuss what I am offering over dinner." She shot him a dark look "I promise you will be under no obligation… but it's cold out here and I don't know about you, but I'm hungry."

"I'm fine, thank you." She tried to decline, but angry growl of her stomach betrayed her.

"Just dinner and a business proposal."

"Business? Right." She snorted.

"Well if you aren't interested in selling your drawings…"

"You really want to talk about my drawings?" she asked suspiciously.

"I want to talk about buying them for five thousand dollars per piece… and I am prepared to offer room and board while you work on them."

"What's the catch?"

"No catch. My boss thinks that new artists deserve a break. If you don't want one…"

"Just art? You swear?"

"I promise. Just art."

"Ok… we can discuss it over dinner."

"Great, I know a little place not too far from here that has the best pizza." Her stomach agreed enthusiastically "What's your name?"

"Alecia."

"How old are you, Alecia?"

"Twenty two."

"If you are going to lie about your age, pick an age that's believable." She glared at him, but Neal just returned a grin… "I might buy eighteen, but… it's a stretch."

"Sixteen." She reluctantly admitted "I'm not going back to that man… he killed my mom and I'm not going to let him kill me."

"He killed your mom?" Neal bit his tongue when he found himself about to suggest she report it.

"Not officially… she actually…" The girl swallowed harshly and shuttered. "But he destroyed her, broke her down every day… made sure she knew she was nothing. That she'd never been anyone, and she never would be…"

"I see." He smiled around the memories her comments dredged up from their hiding place in the back of his mind. "I know how rough that can be."

"I doubt that." She snapped

"I came to New York the week I turned eighteen…"

"Oh." She was quiet for several steps… "I'm not nothing…at least I won't always be."

"You're right, you aren't nothing. You have a very special gift and the world will remember you someday… your work will hang in museums around the world." It wasn't a lie… but she would never live to see it. Most artists don't, he reminded himself. He kept smiling, even though his heart ached.

"Hey, I like the sound of that… I don't believe it, but it is a nice dream."

"Well, let's see if we can give you a push in the right direction, then." He gave her his brightest smile.

)()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()(

"Hey Caffrey." Her voice was soft… alluring and sharp edged as ever.

"Alex!" He put on his best grin as he turned to greet her.

"Isn't she a little young for you?" she nodded toward the retreating form of Cara, the twenty- one year old art student Neal had just had drinks with. The young sculptor had taken his commission for at least five pieces eagerly.

"Yes… but she's extremely talented."

"So you're working…" She hesitated. "Yourself or the Feds?"

"I'm not wired, if that's what you're asking."

"That's good." She allowed her eyes to trace his body a moment before she met his eyes "You look like h***, Neal. What have they been doing to you?" worry edged into her expression.

"I've been working… a lot… and not sleeping well. I'm fine." He sank back down on his bar stool. "How have you been, Alex?" he looked her over and felt a small natural smile slip into place for his friend.

"I got this job offer yesterday… it has your name written all over it. This business owner wants me to track down art for his private collection. I thought if anyone can get him what he wants…"

"Miles Lancaster?"

"How did you know?" She stopped and grinned at him, shaking her head "You sent him to me. Of course you did."

"Look, he's hiring thieves and fences… and you are the best fence I know. I couldn't think of a single reason you shouldn't be cut in."

"Are you in, Caffrey?"

"Why do you think I haven't been sleeping? I have to do my work for him…after hours, if you will."

"This is big enough that you are willing pull it under you handler's nose… the payout must be… big."

"It's worth it." he shot her a reassuring grin "trust me."

"It better be. What do you want me to do?"

"Get Lancaster what he wants… and charming him wouldn't hurt, but not too much. He's married and we don't want to create friction there."

"So a little friendly charm and lots of art." She returned his grin "I can do that." Her fingers brushed his hand "I'll see you around Caffrey… get some sleep. You need to be sharp for whatever it is you are planning."

"I will be.' He promised, brushing a kiss across her cheek.

)()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()(

"I want you to take a couple of days off, Neal" Peter spoke firmly his eyes serious…

"Am I in trouble? Because whatever it is I didn't do it… I've been begging and borrowing, but I haven't needed to steal yet." He slumped into the chair across from the agent before straightening his body reflexively.

"No, you're not in trouble, but you are exhausted."

"I'm fine…"

"Neal, I still check your tracker every morning."

"Of course you do." He rolled his eyes at the absurdity of keeping him on a leash for the end of civilization… "You will probably check it after the asteroid hits too." Peter clenched his jaw, determinedly not thinking about that. "I thought you said you didn't want to know what I did as long as I showed up for work every day."

"I don't. What it tells me is you are rarely home more than five or six hours a day… sometimes much less…and you have been wandering around rough neighborhood at all hours… presumably alone…"

"I'm pushing myself hard. I'll admit that. I can keep it up for the next five months. That's all the time I have."

"That's all any of us have,"

"You don't know that." Neal asserted, the older man shifted uncomfortably.

"What have you been doing in a jazz club on 127th?"

"Looking for musicians. You want to know what's funny about that… I found the best talent of the night in a subway station on my way home."

"That figures." He let the silence drift over them… "What painting is next on the must save list?"

"I'm still trying to get the Louvre to budge on the Mona Lisa. They say she is too valuable to be lent out for a temporary exhibit… though they have offered me several of their other pieces. Obviously they aren't interesting in selling, though they said I am welcome to go through their off exhibit collection."

"You think anyone else has a shot at bringing her in."

"Not unless they steal her. If I was in Paris, I would."

"Neal!"

"What?"

"You want to spend your last few months in a French prison?"

"No one would even know she was missing… you know I could do a forgery that would hold up for a few months."

"Of course you could." He gave an exaggerated shrug of exasperation. "But you aren't in Paris…" After a few seconds he continued "Could the little guy handle the switch?"

"Peter, did **you** really just suggest I have Mozzie **rob** the Louvre?" the grin spread rapidly across his features, his blue eyes sparkled with more energy than Peter had seen in them in a while.

"No… I didn't." he frowned "I asked if he could do it… hypothetically."

"Hypothetically?" Neal chuckled slightly before her bit his lip thoughtfully. "No. Moz is the best I've ever known at planning a heist… and he provides an exceptional distraction, but he's never been all that good at the actual theft part."

"Could you hire someone?"

"I can't think of anyone I would trust with something this important. I don't suppose your bosses would allow me a weekend in Paris would they?"

"Yeah, not going to happen. Not without convincing them of…" he trailed off and studied his friend's obviously exhausted frame. "Go home, Neal, get some rest… we'll think of something."

)()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()(

Something was definitely up. Clinton Jones prided himself on his powers of observation, it was what made him good at his job and gave him a position of trust on the team. The signs were subtle at first. A warning look sent from Caffrey to Diana when she seemed on the verge of saying something. The brief conversations between Peter and Neal in the conference room before the morning meeting that ended abruptly when he drew close to the door. Peter asking Jones not to check Neal's tracking anklet… "As long as he's at work every day don't worry about where he goes." The way Caffrey picked absently at the scone he brought for breakfast and apparently had no intention of eating… for the third time this week. Which brought Jones to the way Caffrey's perfectly tailored suits seemed to hang, just a bit looser on his slender frame. His face seemed drawn and pale, lines of strain forming around his mouth. Blue eyes peered out at the world from the dark wells around them.

Whatever pressure Caffrey was under it was wearing him down in a way Jones had never seen… and he thought he's seen the younger man in the worst possible situations. He tried to pinpoint a reason… a cause for Neal's increasingly sickly appearance… Sickly… His heart thudded a bit harder against his chest. Caffrey looked ill… had looked ill for the last couple of months. A chronic condition would explain all of the clues he had noticed, if Peter and Diana were privy to the information and they would be, if they were present for the diagnoses. The pieces fell into place. The three of them had been behaving strangely since they took Caffrey to be checked out after that bizarre Miles Lancaster case… He needed to confirm his theory before he jumped to conclusions, but Jones found his eyes suddenly stinging…

)()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()(

"Caffrey!" Sara's voice rang harshly through the phone.

"Sara?" Neal ran his hand though his hair, noticing vaguely that it was trembling slightly. "How nice to hear from you at… Four-thirty... in the morning." Not that he had been sleeping, he had just arrived home actually, from a meeting with a graffiti artist who had more talent in his little finger than many so called real artists he'd seen in galleries… a nineteen year old Puerto Rican kid named Marcus who had agreed to make him seven pieces on large sheets of canvas in exchange for fifty thousand dollars.

Neal had hoped to collapse for a couple of hours before he needed to be at work, but with Sara on the line from London… he might have to settle for a long shower and a few cups of very strong coffee…

"You want to tell me why the owner of a steel construction company called me this morning saying you recommended me for a job? What angle are you playing Caffrey?"

"He called you? About time." He couldn't contain his grin. "I recommended you nearly a month ago."

"You very neatly avoided my question, Neal. What game are you pulling me into?"

"No game." He sighed wearily. "Take the job Sara."

"There is something you stand to gain from this…"

"Yes there is, but I can't explain it to you… I wish I could, but it's not a pleasant thing to know Sara."

"Neal?" she suddenly sounded serious "What's wrong? You sound… tired? Are you ok?"

"I'm fine." He shrugged and took a deep breath "I just haven't been sleeping well."

"You are going to start explaining what is going on right now, Caffrey." Her voice was harsh and worried. "Maybe I can help."

"I wish I could. Sara, you have no idea how badly I want to tell you…" He sank onto the stool beside his easel in exhaustion, staring at the painting vaguely. "But you are much better off not knowing."

"Whatever it is it sounds like it is eating you alive. Sometimes sharing a burden makes it easier to carry." Her words drew a quick laugh from Neal. "Are you laughing at me Caffrey?"

"You sound like a fortune cookie, Repo."

"I was trying to be helpful." She sounded mildly offended, but the worry still lingered

"I know and I appreciate the effort. I haven't laughed in a while, actually, so you did help."

"Glad to be useful then." Her sharp tone lessened a bit. "But seriously… you know you can tell me anything, right? Assuming you aren't planning to steal the Mona Lisa or something."

"Well actually…" the young man smiled.

"Caffrey! You're not!"

"I'm not planning to steal her… but I need to get my hands on her somehow."

"What are you talking about?"

"The job Lancaster offered you… he's trying to save the beautiful things of this world…I'm trying to help him… he's offering you a chance to help too."

"Save the beautiful…? What are you talking about?"

"It's a long story. Are you sure you want to know?"


	7. Chapter 7

"These are perfect, Cara." Neal grinned at the semi-abstract sculptures, firmly not thinking about her career cut short by death at twenty one "they really are… your family must be so proud of your talent." The young woman shrugged. "Aren't they?'

"Not that I can tell. I'm sure my mother will brag about it to her friends if I become a famous artist, but right now…. Skiing with Edward in Zurich is more interesting."

"What about your dad?"

"Esmeralda on the beach in Cancun… I think." She shrugged again "she does have the body for a bikini, though."

"I'm sorry, Cara"

"Don't be, they split up a long time ago and I'm an adult…" she smiled "they call… make sure I'm still alive about once a month."

"What about siblings?" she shook her head sadly.

"I had a younger brother… but he died…leukemia"

"I keep bringing up painful subjects." He smiled wanly, she deserved better than what life had given her. Much better than what it was about to throw at her next. "Maybe, I should just stop talking and focus on your pieces."

"It's alright I don't mind." She shrugged again with forced casualness "Brandon was nine when he passed … I was eleven, but he'd been sick for so long… as long as either of us could really remember. My parents split the next year."

"I hear that's not uncommon after the loss of a child."

"That's what my therapist said after the divorce… they both need someone to blame so they blame each other…" she shook her head " and me… sort of… for still being alive … or something like that." She rolled her eyes "she told me about five thousand times it wasn't my fault. Like I was dumb enough to think I gave my brother cancer…" she was quiet for a moment "So you like my sculptures?"

"I do" he grinned "I love them, my boss is going to be thrilled."

)()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()(

"OK. Out with it." Elle said gently, after watching her clearly distracted husband study his dinner for ten minutes without taking a bite. "What do you think Neal is up to now?"

"What? Oh… nothing."

"I'm pretty sure my mushroom tortellini is not that fascinating. Something is on your mind… has been on your mind for a while. I know that you feel like you need to protect me lately, but hon you obviously need to talk to someone."

"Hon…"

"You have that 'I don't know if I can protect him' look. Peter, maybe you shouldn't try. I know he is your friend, but Neal is an adult and you can't keep protecting him from the consequences of his actions."

"He hasn't done anything wrong this time, Elle…"

"Are you sure?"

"As sure as I ever am with him."

"But you are worried about him. Why don't you bring him over for dinner?"

"He wouldn't come."

"Let me guess, he's angry with you again."

"No. Although I'm not sure I would blame him if he felt the need to cut me out…"

"What does that mean?"

"It means I had a very uncomfortable conversation with the little guy a few months ago."

"Really? Is that why Mozzie hasn't been coming by lately?"

"Maybe, but… Neal doesn't seem angry. Hon, he's just… he's been pushing himself to hard lately. He never stops. He's exhausted and I don't think he's eating well…"

"On your cases? Couldn't you just refuse to let him work on some of them?"

"He has a second job after hours."

"Neal has a second job? How did you find this out?" She grinned, her eyes shining with amusement. Peter had to look away.

"He told me."

"He told you? Well that's… new."

"Yeah, so are the dark circles under his eyes, and the lines around his mouth and the way his bones stick out like he never takes time to eat… He's pushing himself to hard."

"Why is he pushing himself so hard? What is this new job?"

"Art conservation." He flinched, it wasn't a lie, but it was really only a tiny sliver of the truth. He was exhausted himself from keeping this secret from his wife.

"Well that is impressive and I'll bet he's good at it. Maybe he feels the need to prove himself to his new boss."

"It's not that, hon… there are… time constraints…" He sighed then took a deep breath. It was time to come clean. He couldn't keep a secret like this indefinitely…. "Elle… hon… there is something I need to tell you. I should have told you a while ago… but I kept putting it off because… because I couldn't think of a way to start..."

"The beginning is usually a good place to start." She smiled encouragingly, but he could see a dozen possibilities rattle through her mind.

"Well it began with Neal getting a job offer." He was glad to finally tell her, but it shattered his heart to see the way the color left her face as he choked out his explanation of the coming catastrophe. The stunned expression that slowly evolved into devastated as she understood the time frame tore at his heart. April… their baby was due in May… her hand moved protectively to her slightly rounded abdomen.

"Hon… are you sure?"

"Yeah. I'm sure." he wrapped his arms around her and held on tight "But don't give up. I'm going to do everything I can to ensure we get through this." He felt the tears slip down his cheeks as she clung to him for a long time. Her shoulders shuttered a few times before she gently extracted herself from his embrace and brushed her hair from her face.

"So art conservation…? Does that mean Neal has found a way to save himself?" she smiled wanly, wiping at her eyes.

"No, it means he's found a way to be remembered forever."

"I wonder if he could use some help." Her suddenly strong voice surprised him.

)()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()(

Miles Lancaster watched his crew work, his thoughts churning. The government had agreed to take all of his employees who worked on the bunker project into the shelters, but these men and women who had worked just as hard to build a place to preserve the cultural treasures of the human race… they were not included in that promise. It had been Neal Caffrey who had pointed that out to him. Lancaster found himself confiding in the young man frequently these days… it was good to have someone who understood the serious nature of the work they were doing, He couldn't discuss it with his wife. While he loved her with his whole heart, and trusted her without question, she did tend to be the slightly hysterical type. He didn't dare tell her about the asteroid until they were safely inside their shelter. Caffrey provided the sounding board that he needed and while he doubted the young man's moral fiber, Neal had been unfailingly sympathetic and surprisingly insightful. It was that very insightfulness that haunted the businessman this evening. As he had lamented his inability to save even his daughters' best friends and his longtime cook and housekeeper and her family, Caffrey had looked up at him and asked quietly.

"Why not?"

"Because I am only allowed immediate family."

"In the government shelters… but you have a private one."

"For the art."

"I haven't been inside, but are we really going to fill it up completely?" No, Lancaster admitted to himself. Not even close… he had planned for paintings in frames and crates full of packing material… but Caffrey's storage ideas had cut the needed space to a mere one third of expected…even at the increased rate they were accumulating pieces. Rolling the paintings and wrapping the statues and furniture in the soft items…it really was brilliant.

"So why couldn't you make a place for them here… they could look after the art and you would be able to save them. Seems like a win for everyone."

"It does, doesn't it…?" And if he and his family joined them that would open up a slot in the public bunker for someone else. The kid had watched the construction workers hurry in and out of the tunnel quietly for several minutes.

"What happens to your workers here…" He nodded to the construction crew, his blue eyes serious. "Seems a shame that they work so hard to save the history of humanity and then don't really stand a chance…" with that the young man stood and walked away. Lancaster did not miss the tired slump of the narrow shoulders.

Now the construction magnate sat in the falling darkness and pondered his options. His crew was working hard around the clock… it would be asking a lot to add to their job but… it would be for their own good.

)()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()(

"Hey Boss?" Peter looked up at Jones noting the concern in his brown eyes and the slight frown on his face. "Can I talk to you a moment?"

"Of course," he gestured to a seat "What's on your mind?"

"Actually I'm more concerned with what's on your mind, Peter?" he shifted awkwardly "you and Diana have been preoccupied for months and Caffrey… he's been…" he trailed off and took a breath. "What is going on, Peter?"

"Jones, I'm not sure that I should-" he thought of the horrible reality he now lived in. Going about his life, solving cases as if any of it still mattered… pretending civilization wasn't going to collapse in just less than five months.

"It's Neal, isn't it?"

"Clinton-"

"Something's wrong with him?" the younger agent stared at his boss intensely "He's sick, right?"

"What makes you think that?" this turn in the conversation left his mind reeling.

"He's pale, with dark circles under his eyes that could be mistaken for bruises, he's lost at least fifteen pounds in the last couple of months and yesterday I caught him asleep in the break room…sitting up, with a cup of coffee in his hands…Besides he's been quiet, it's unnatural. What is it, Peter? Cancer? Or…did that Lancaster guy give him something that caused damage? That's when you found it, whatever it is, when you and Diana took him to be checked out after that case, tell me I'm wrong. Whatever it is, is it terminal?"

"Jones…" Peter sighed and stared at his hands for a long moment. He flexed his jaw, weighing his options tiredly. He could try to brush the younger agent off, he could attempt to explain the gut wrenching truth and possibly destroy a good man or he could go with the out Jones had provided. When he looked up he was shocked to see tears in his subordinate's eyes.

"How long?" Jones asked quietly as if he had already confirmed his theory "Were you going to tell me? D*** it Peter! Caffrey's my friend too."

"I know. Clinton it's not like that… Neal is…" he floundered into silence, hesitating, deciding "five months… unless something very unexpected happens he'll be dead in five months." He didn't even have to lie, the words were the absolute truth. He swallowed violently as the reality of his words sank in. Five months… He blinked at his own sudden tears. "Jones do me a favor… don't mention this conversation to Neal. He'd rather this not be common knowledge. You know how he is…"

"Sure thing, Peter" The younger man nodded stiffly "just… if he needs… anything… you know…"

"Yeah, thanks." Peter stood up and turned to his window, he heard Jones quietly slip out of the office. His mind spun with a sudden thought… If Jones was convinced Neal was sick then maybe they could use it…

He shook his head in disbelief. The world as they knew it was ending and he was planning to help Neal Caffrey arrange one of the biggest art thefts in history.


	8. Chapter 8

Mozzie watched his friend painting intently, seemingly unaware of his presence. He had entered the apartment quietly, expecting… hoping for Neal to be asleep, it was, after all, nearly one am and the kid had been looking pretty ragged recently. Instead he found him at the easel, phone lying on the table beside him, deep in negotiations with the National Art Gallery of Namibia for a selection of pieces from their permanent collection to make a tour of the United States… Neal's voice was animated and brimming with enthusiasm as he persuaded the man on the other end of a very bad connection that this tour would be greatly appreciated and enjoyed in the US. The young man was asking for a thousand pieces. His counterpart insisted they could not afford to send so many.

As he talked Neal's hands painted quickly and confidently, without apparent thought, the haunting image coming into focus as the details were added. A young man leaning against the pole of a street lamp stood out in sharp, realistic detail, his posture relaxed and confident. A smile sat on his lips, his expression peaceful, except his eyes which, in striking contrast, reflected pure horror. Outside the pool of light cast by the lamp, monsters could just be glimpsed dancing around him in impressionistic swirls.

Overall the piece was horrifyingly beautiful, but given his recent discovery of the terrible secret Neal had been keeping these last few months it was very appropriate. When his young friend sat down with him last week and explained that the whispers the little man had heard regarding a potential end of civilization were in fact absolute truth, his first response had been terrified denial, followed by raging fury that all of his plans for the future had been abruptly extinguished… which he had unfortunately directed at Neal in a scathing verbal attack that had, no doubt, been audible from the street… several blocks away.

Now he had reached the point of resignation and was fully prepared to throw himself into helping Neal with the process of saving what could be saved. Suddenly all of the younger man's bizarre requests the last three months made more sense. He had come tonight to ask his friend's forgiveness and offer his continued assistance, but now he found himself transfixed by the painting taking shape on the canvas… watching Neal pour his own fear, anger and grief into the painting…

Realization hit like the mega-tsunami that would soon destroy every coastline on the planet. This was an original and it deserved a place in the collection Mr. Lancaster was amassing. It was a master piece that belonged alongside Raphael's St. George and the Dragon, which according to Neal was safely ensconced in the bunker already, curtesy of Insurance Investigator Barbie. The revelation quickly led to another that sickened his stomach slightly, he had turned his generation's Da Vinci into a forger and thief, Mozzie swallowed harshly again, and burned a whole storage room full of his paintings.

"Hello Mozzie," Neal's voice pulled him from his musings "Thanks for waiting…"

"It sounded important."

"I wasn't sure I would see you again." The slim shoulders raised and dropped in a weary sigh "I'm sorry I didn't tell you before. I should have, but I didn't want to upset you."

"I understand why you didn't… mostly." He sighed and conceded "and you were possibly right…"

"Thanks."

"I came to tell you I finished tracking down that Rembrandt you were looking for… and ask what you need me to be doing now?" the younger man finally turned to face him, tears shining in his blue eyes.

"You're a good friend Moz."

"Some days." He looked away from the grateful expression "I am sorry about the other night" He pushed his glasses more firmly into place and smiled sadly. His eyes drifted back to the painting "this…" he stepped forward and allowed his fingers to just graze the corner of the canvas "is amazing."

"I was just… keeping my hands busy." He shrugged "It's nothing. If you want to help, I need you to go to Seattle and San Francisco to pick out some pieces from a couple of galleries who won't make sells over the phone. If you want to find some traditional pottery in the southwestern states on your way home that would be appreciated too… authentic pieces… of course. You know what else to look for."

"I can do that…" he hesitated "Why do you do that?"

"Do what?" Neal smiled innocently, but Mozzie wasn't fooled.

"You love to be complimented on a forgery, but not on your originals."

"I told you Moz I'm not an artist."

"This says otherwise mon frère" he gestured wildly at the painting.

"Mozzie" the younger man's voice carried a hint of forced patience "An artist has to know who he is… I had an alias at three. I will never have a voice."

"No voice? No voice? Neal, this painting alone is practically screaming!" he waved at the piece enthusiastically.

"Just drop it Moz." Neal turned away "please. I'm not an artist and I never will be."

"Who told you that?" the smaller man snapped at his friend. "Was it your mother because…"

"It wasn't my mother…" he sighed deeply "It was my art teacher."

"Your art teacher… in high school?"

"No. It was a community thing. The teacher was a young artist that was showing in a local gallery." He chuckled "Ellen signed me up. She thought it would be good to nurture my talent. Turns out I only had a talent for imitation." He smiled distantly "a born forger."

"How old were you?" the older man frowned, suddenly afraid of the answer.

"Twelve." Neal smiled sadly at him and his frown deepened with anger.

"So some pitiful "artist" was jealous of a twelve year old boy and felt the need to put him in his place… and you believed him." he scowled at his friend "You are usually smarter than that."

"He was right. I had no identity. Everyone knew that."

"Of course you didn't! You were twelve!"

"Moz please… just drop it."

"Fine I'll drop it… but he was wrong." He glared out at the night for a long time "Who was he?"

"Dennis Stevens."

"I've heard of him."

Neal grabbed his shoulder and forced the smaller man to face him. "Moz, you will not go track him down for some misguided revenge idea. Ok?"

"Ok, no revenge." He smiled placatingly. He wouldn't plot revenge, but Neal hadn't said anything about demanding an explanation, preferably very publicly. If he remembered correctly, and he always did, Dennis Hunter had a show opening in Chicago very soon… and the man did have quite a bit of talent… maybe he would buy one or two for the collection…Mr. Lancaster would probably be interested … come to think of it he might be interested in a few Neal Caffrey originals too. He shook himself firmly from his musings.

Neal was on the phone again… already deep in conversation in Japanese about antique swords and fighting fans.

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Marcus beamed as he stepped back and proudly displayed his masterpiece. Ten feet by fourteen feet the massive canvas glowed with color, a life size mural of a group of dancers in the park, so realistic Neal could almost feel the beat of their music.

"This what you were thinking, man?"

"Yes… most definitely yes." Neal pulled on a cotton glove and brushed his fingers gently over the spray paint "You have more talent than most artists I've seen."

"That's cool." The teen tried to sound unaffected by the compliment, but his lips twitched as his grin tried to broaden.

"The only problem I see is how I'm going to transport this." Neal frowned slightly "even if I roll it up it's still ten foot long… just a bit large for carrying in a cab."

"You could take the subway."

Neal chuckled "Not with a masterpiece… unless the Feds are closing in."

"What?" the kid looked at him suspiciously.

"I may have allegedly been prone to some less than legal activities… in the past."

"No sweat from me, man" Marcus shook his head "some of the nicest people I know don't exactly live on the legal side of things. As long as I get paid and no one is getting hurt, I'm cool."

"Good. For the record this is legit."

"Nice to know." The young man shrugged. "I appreciate the opportunity" Neal felt his heart twinge with guilt. Buying the art was legitimate, but the opportunities … the future that should have come with being discovered as an artist weren't coming. The kid's future was extremely grim and Neal had to bite down the urge to tell him the truth. "Should I tell you my dad was a cop?" Marcus grinned

"Mine too…" Neal looked away "not the best sort of one, but…"

"Mine either… he lost his job for drinking too much and left town when I was five." Neal swallowed hard at the similarities between them… he had the sudden compulsion to throw something. He wanted this boy to have a future… he deserved a future!

"I have to go Marcus… I'll see you next month." He hurriedly rolled up the canvas and laying it over his shoulder he walked away as quickly as he could.

)()()()()()()()()()()()()()(

"Any luck on the Mona Lisa?" Peter's question caught him off guard. Neal looked up from the rich lamb chop he was absently pushing around his plate.

"Not yet." He allowed a bit of frustration to slip through in a small frown. "I'm trying to think of something, but" He didn't mean to sound angry, but if he had true freedom of movement he could have had her securely ready to be stored in the underground vault.

"You need to go to France." Peter said it quietly.

"Would be nice, but I don't see that happening." He couldn't stop the short harsh laugh.

"Actually I've had some long conversations with Bruce and his superiors… I need you to plan an itinerary to finalize the plans, but…"

"What did you do?" Neal asked, his friend's eyes glinted with the first real humor he'd seen there in months.

"I requested permission to take you on a tour of Europe."

"And they are willing to let you?" he scoffed quietly at the likelihood of that.

"Well, it took some persuading, but since you are terminally ill…"

"Peter, I'm not sick …" he blamed his distraction and weariness that he was a bit slow on the uptake. He stared at the older man as his mind finally caught up. "but you told them I am…"

"I was pushing for a compassionate release, but…they said 'no' to that since you weren't actually in prison… they are allowing you to travel, but I'll have to escort you, it's the best I could do." He shrugged apologetically. Neal found himself chuckling.

"You lied to your supervisors so I can steal the most famous painting in the world?" the thought really was funny.

"Actually I never lied to them." He grinned "I borrowed a page from your book. I didn't say you are sick… I told Bruce you have four months to live."

"Which is technically true…me and the rest of the world. Peter I'm proud of you." He couldn't contain his need to laugh.

"Jones gave me the idea."

Neal laughed harder at that, "And you are sure you want to escort me?" he finally managed to ask.

"Elle's always wanted to see Paris anyway. I figure it's my last chance to take her. Even if we survive, Paris will be…gone." he shrugged grimly "So we'll take in the sights and you will rob the Louvre, we'll kill two birds with one stone."

"The end of the world brings out the devious side of you, Peter." Neal grinned with delight. He took a bite of his lamb, for the first time in weeks the young man was hungry and the food here really was delicious.


	9. Chapter 9

"Who would you save?" Lancaster asked the quiet young man beside him. Neal had again delivered a stunning shipment of priceless treasures, exceeding his expectations once more.

"What?" Neal seemed to snap back from somewhere deep inside his own head.

"If you were chosen for one of the shelters, who would you bring with you?" Lancaster watched a small resigned smile play quickly across his companion's face.

"It doesn't matter." the young man's shoulders slumped a bit dejectedly.

"Of course it does. I know it's a long shot but…"

"It's not a long shot, Mr. Lancaster, I am ineligible. I read Senator Ross' terms of selection. I'm a convicted felon."

"Oh." Lancaster allowed himself to fall silent for a moment. He had forgotten that actually, Caffrey was so likeable it was very easy to forget his past. "If you were eligible then who would you bring with you?" he wanted to get a glimpse at what was underneath the vintage suits and calm expressions.

"Probably no one." The younger man shrugged "my mother if I could find her. They only allow immediate family." His gaze traveled to the rented truck that carried his most recent contributions and the small man that lingered near it.

"Given the opportunity, you would save him, right?" he nodded to the little guy.

"Mozzie? Yes, if I could I would save Moz… and Peter and Elizabeth, his wife… and the rest of my… family." He sighed "but that isn't an option for me… not through proper channels anyway." He chuckled "Not that I'm not working on it."

Miles returned his smile, but his heart ached again as it so often did after these conversations with Neal. The kid had once more pointed out a fallacy of the rules in place. Not all families were blood. How many people would enter the bunkers alone? How many would enter with relatives they despised and leave behind families they built for themselves.

"I should help off load." Neal said quietly and hurried away.

No sooner had he vanished around the truck than his small friend seemed to appear beside Lancaster, his expression… agitated.

"Neal told me the truth… that you are saving art from the coming apocalypse." He pushed his glasses up quickly before he continued. "I have an artist whose pieces you might want to consider adding to your collection."

"Who would that be?"

"I can't give you a name until after you have seen the piece I have currently."

"Alright, then let me see it." the man nodded sharply and deftly opened a metal art tube and unrolled its contents, revealing a painting that even Lancaster, art novice that he was, knew was absolutely stunning. "It's… I'm not sure beautiful is the word…" it was beautiful… and terrifying, heart wrenching and powerful. A couple composed of tiny dots sat beneath the stars, a picnic spread out around them. They were framed by apple blossoms in perfect realistic detail… shooting stars streaked across the sky, around the central figures tall buildings seemed to melt and in the distance a vague shape that might have been storm clouds or the rearing crest of a monstrous wave, rose up against the horizon. "Who is the artist?"

"Neal… he's not going to be happy I showed you, but… he deserves to be remembered as much as any of the new artists he is finding for you and he would never suggest himself so…"

"Thank you… I will have to demand he bring me some of his own work. Do you mind if I take this one?"

"I want it back if I survive the end of the world."

"Of course."

"I'll need a signed agreement of that." The bald man produced a five page contract and a fountain pen from somewhere in his jacket. Miles resisted the urge to shake his head in disbelief as he signed the document.

"Now may I have the painting… for safe keeping." The man nodded and turned to go.

"I can get you more…" he said suddenly over his shoulder.

"I'll take as many as you can bring me." Miles whole heartedly accepted the offer. The little guy grinned.

"I knew you would."

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He really hoped he hadn't shown to much of his hand in the conversation with Lancaster. Neal pushed the dolly down the ramp from the truck as he considered the possibility, his desperation had gotten the better of him for a few moments. He wanted his boss to realize the utter hopelessness of his situation under the conventional survival routes without appearing to distressed. Everything… everything hinged on Lancaster coming to the right conclusion and believing the whole thing was his own idea. He was a strong willed, self- made man and if he thought for on second that Neal was trying to push him into doing something it would all be over.

For months Neal had allowed the man to use him as a confidant, listening as he poured out his worries and struggles regarding their impending doom, all the while maintaining his careful mask. Allowing that mask to slip just enough at precise moments let the older man see Neal's concern for his friends and for others when he wanted him to. Neal forced himself to think of his plan as a con, it really was. He was simply tricking Lancaster into doing exactly what he wanted. Frantic desperation would undermine the entire operation, but the fact was, never had the stakes been so high, never had he had so many lives resting solely on his ability to emotionally manipulate someone… he could not afford to make a single error.

Peter believed acquiring the Mona Lisa was important to him because of his love of fine art. Neal allowed him to believe it because it was partially true, but that was the lesser reason. Neal always did his research on a mark. He knew Lancaster's love of art came from his father, he knew that that on particular piece was of the utmost importance to the steel construction magnate and he knew why. He needed Da Vinci's masterpiece to complete his con. His survival… the survival of everyone he cared about depended on this theft.

Neal chuckled tightly. Nothing like a little pressure to keep you on your toes.

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"Amsterdam? Really Neal, you need to go to Amsterdam?" Peter sat his beer down and held up the itinerary, imagining the famed red light district and legalized drug usage. "Why do you need to go to Amsterdam? Give me one good reason."

"The Van Gogh museum?" Elizabeth chimed in, her eyes shining with innocence and amusement.

"The Anne Frank house… the royal palace…" Neal continued exchanging a look with his friend's wife.

"The tulip gardens… we should get some bulbs."

"Absolutely." He grinned playfully "Besides Peter we need to have some fun on this trip. After all, a dying man deserves a little fun." The agent shook his head as the two of them teased him. He really didn't mind, they had both been far too quiet the last few weeks and he was glad to hear them laugh even at his own expense.

"Ok focus, both of you." Peter grinned despite himself, "So we are starting in London, then Amsterdam." He paused to shake his head "then you want to go to Berlin and over into Poland?"

"Have you seen the Polish pottery? It is beautiful."

"Ok Poland, then you want to drive to Paris where you plan to steal a painting."

"Not steal, Peter, preserve… and they'll never miss it."

"Right… I never thought I'd ever consider anything like this."

"Desperate times." there was a brief crack of panic in the young man's voice "I can't let her be lost. Da Vinci was a true genius."

"I know." He sighed, frustration oozing into the words "I'm not backing out, Neal, but I don't have to like it." his friend nodded in acceptance. "After Paris you want to drive through the Black Forest and Austria to Venice. Why do we need to go through a forest? You know we only have about a month for this trip, right?"

"Wood work… Black forest wood work is incredible, carvings, toys and… the clocks. Besides have you ever had authentic black forest cake?"

"Ok, we'll go through the forest so you can get dessert." He shook his head again. "After Venice, you want to go to Florence and Rome, then across to Spain?"

"Barcelona and Madrid, yes."

"Are you sure we can do all of this in a month?"

"It will be tight, but if we stick to the schedule, we'll make it."

"It will be an adventure, honey" Elizabeth brushed his cheek gently "one last adventure before…" she stopped, her voice dying in the sudden silence. Neal shrugged off the growing despair in the room.

"And you two take lots of pictures, because you are going to want to show them to your son."

"Neal…" Peter began and stopped "I hope we are chosen too, but…"

"I told you. Don't worry about it, you guys are going to be ok. I promise."

"Don't make promises you can't keep." He stared at the young man seriously, trying to read his expression. Did he have a plan or was this just optimism… or denial? Was he just trying to keep their hopes up?

"I won't." the blue eyes that met his were clear and certain.

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She shook her head and smiled briefly, thinking of her neighbor's reaction when she told her about her evening plans.

"I'm sorry… best of luck." The other woman had responded when she heard Sara was having dinner with her ex. Part of her wanted to explain that it wasn't like that, that they parted on fairly good terms, that she broke it off for her job, that they were still friends... The larger more private part of her that hadn't wanted to tell the nosy woman anything at all kept her quiet.

Standing here in her favorite restaurant, of course, from an ocean away, after all this time Caffrey still managed to find her favorite, waiting for him to arrive she sighed. This would most likely be the last time she saw him. In a little over three months there would be no more time. Tonight the playful fondness they so often shared would be missing… they both carried a weight of knowledge that threatened to crush them.

"Sara?" to her surprise his voice came from behind her, inside the restaurant. She positioned her smile and turned to face him. She stifled the gasp that rose to her lips. He stood leaning casually against the host's counter, a small smile on his lips and in his eyes. As usual he was dressed impeccably, but his suit hung to loosely from a slim frame that had grown far thinner than ideal. Dark circles ringed his bright blue eyes and his face looked pale. He looked even more exhausted than he sounded on the phone when she called lately. Suddenly she understood how the FBI believed the story that allowed him to be here in London.

Then he stepped forward and lay his hand on her arm and brushed a feather light kiss on her cheek, and the illusion that all was well tried to slip into place. Offering his arm his smile widened.

"Shall we?" she took his arm and nodded wordlessly, afraid of what she might say if she spoke. Once they were seated he met her eyes. "You look good Sara. Your hair is longer… I like it."

"I just haven't bothered to get it cut recently. I've had other things on my mind."

"I understand that." He said quietly.

"I know you do." The next words slipped out before she could stop them "you look exhausted… do you sleep at all anymore?"

"I sleep enough." He shrugged "other things on my mind. How is Sterling Bosch?"

"I wouldn't know." It was her turn to shrug "I rarely make it into the office since our conversation."

"Oh…"

"I've been focusing on the valuables and… other things." She swallowed harshly trying to forget the favor she had intended to ask of him.

"Have you had any luck?"

"What?"

"Finding your sister…have you had any luck?"

"What makes you think I'm looking?" she snapped. Of course she was looking. She even had a promising lead. She hoped that FBI resources could be slightly misappropriated to follow up on it, but how could she give the worn down man before her anything else to worry about?

"The world as we know it is ending Sara, she's your sister… of course you are looking." He looked into her eyes, his gaze as sharp as ever. "I've been trying to contact my mom. The Marshals aren't being very cooperative but… I'm working on it."

"Ok." She conceded "I've been looking. I want… I need to know what happened to her before time is…"

"Have you had any luck?" he repeated.

"I might have a lead." She sighed and toyed with her napkin.

"Can I help?"

"Neal you look about five minutes from collapsing… I'll be fine."

"So will I. Let me help."

"Fine, there was a stripper in Chicago named Penelope Rain fifteen years ago… she matched her description, but she disappeared after that."

"I could run her through the system…"

"If you have time I would appreciate that, but if you don't I'll understand." She forced an easy smile and turned the conversation to lighter topics, to give them both a much needed break from the weight of the world.


	10. Chapter 10

Paris really was beautiful, even in the cold misty shroud of winter, he'd nearly forgotten how beautiful. Neal leaned quietly on the banister and gazed reflectively over the river, trying very hard not to remember that all of this would be gone in just a little more than three months. Tour boats drifted along filled with excited tourists. In the distance the lights of the Eifel Tower winked on in the falling evening. The sun breaking through the clouds, sank magnificently into the horizon, a king drawing the brightly colored curtains of his bed around him, the fading light shimmering on the damp stones of the city. People moved around him, lovers strolling along the Sine, families headed for their evening meal, and workers hurrying home… life going on as if nothing had ever changed and nothing ever would. It felt like a very long time since he had been a part of that life, but for tonight… for tonight he was free and content.

He shifted his weight, rubbing his right foot over his bare ankle. When they had arrived at the hotel this afternoon Peter had removed the anklet with a peculiar expression and dropped it into Elizabeth's purse. The agent had grinned at the younger man's stunned expression.

"Are you going to tell her it's in there?" he nodded toward the bathroom where the lady in question was showering.

"It was her idea." Peter's grin widened "she said the Marshals back home might get suspicious if you were hanging around museums after hours. She'll probably drop it on the bed sometimes too…"

Neal had felt light… exultant… as he left the hotel. Paris and freedom, he could go anywhere, vanish into the wide world and never be seen again. The ache of seemingly unachievable freedom had been with him for so long he had almost forgotten it was there, but now just a few hours later he felt the weight of the world slowly shifting back onto his shoulders. In three hours of drifting through the Louvre he had noted the security around the Mona Lisa… and perused many of the thousands of pieces he could not save, taken photos of as many as he could, had a brief conversation with the assistant curator asking for a meeting tomorrow to discuss a six month American tour of some of their more notable pieces. The formidable woman, impressed that an American spoke such fluent French, and perhaps a bit by his startlingly blue eyes, had agreed to meet him for dinner tomorrow to negotiate his request.

He would meet the crew of five Mozzie had assembled for him in the morning. The plan to pose as security experts testing the guards' response time to alarms in several wings simultaneously should give Neal exactly two minutes to swap the lady with his copy and stash her out of sight, before he was surrounded by annoyed museum employees who notoriously hated these tests. It should be as easy as cutting butter, the tricky part was keeping the crew convinced that they actually were running a security test not a heist. Moz hired "reformed" thieves for ten grand per head for the job. If they found out there was more to it, chances were they wouldn't turn him in… probably, but they would want more money and that would not end well.

That was a worry for tomorrow, he firmly told himself, tonight he was going to walk to that café across the bridge and enjoy their French pressed coffee before joining Peter and Elizabeth for dinner at a brassière he remembered fondly, still on the same street corner it was eight years ago.

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She wasn't giving up. Even though every contact her father had at the State Department denied any knowledge of the ELE… everyone except Ronald Thompson, who had always been honest with her. His response had been sad resignation.

"Diana I wish I could guarantee you and your son a spot in one of the shelters, but I can't even secure one for my own kids. I would help you if I could, but space is very limited and… if I'm being honest, they are giving preferential status certain professions. There are quotas"

"Which professions? I would think law enforcement will be needed."

"I'm sure there is a quota for law enforcement Diana, but I don't think the numbers are that high. What they really want are construction workers and farmers."

"D***"

"Don't give up Diana. I wish you the best."

"Yeah…" she sighed "thanks"

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It went perfectly. He should have known that it went to well, contrary to popular opinion nothing ever happened so easily for him. Every step fell into place as smoothly as he had ever seen a heist go. Hiding in the janitors' closet down the hall from the gallery that housed the famed painting Neal carefully stretched his two forgeries and waited for the alarms to start. His five unwitting accomplices would walk through the huge museum touching frames. Mozzie, posing as a representative of a consulting firm, had arranged the test through the head of security weeks ago.

When the klaxons began ringing he slipped quietly out of his niche and avoided the cameras carefully. He watched the tall man with furious eyes brush the Mona Lisa roughly and move on. It took Neal mere seconds to remove the beautiful painting from its frame and replace it. Then he move swiftly to next room to swap his secondary target. Finished, he darted back to the closet, closing the door just as security guards rushed into the gallery. He grinned fiercely as he deftly removed the two paintings from their wooden structures and rolled them with extreme care. Sliding them under his overcoat he waited until tourists and art students slowly began to filter back into the museum.

He inconspicuously joined the crowd and walked leisurely out the front door. Breathing a sigh of relief he took the metro back to the hotel. Safely in his room he slid the paintings into an art tube and placed a label on the package addressed to Mozzie's favorite PO Box.

The first sign of trouble came when he stepped out of the post office. He caught a glimpse of a familiar looking face, following him. He frowned deeply. The men had been paid, there was no reason for them to have any farther association. The situation got uglier when he spotted two more of them.

When they approached him, Neal smiled.

"How can I help you gentlemen?" Neal grinned openly, the dark haired man glared at him. Harry Jenkins, one of two Americans on the team was six foot two and easily two hundred and twenty pounds.

"Cut the bull…We know you took paintings from the Louvre today. And since we provided the cover for you, we think we deserve to be cut in."

"Whatever you think you know, you were paid for your work today… quite generously."

"We want our share of what you took." A look at the three hard cold faces and he knew it didn't matter what he said this was going to get extremely unpleasant. He should have known it all went too smoothly.

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"Peter?" Neal's voice sounded slightly breathy. "I know you and Elizabeth are enjoying Paris and I hate to cut your time here short, but I think we should leave town today."

"Neal… I told you not to get caught."

"I didn't."

"Then why do we need to leave?"

"Remember what I said about hiring people you don't know…"

"Unreliable?"

"Unpredictable."

"But you did it anyway."

"Mozzie did… it was his plan."

"One of them got caught?"

"No, Peter, but they did figure out what we were doing… more or less." Frustration bled into Neal's voice "and they want to be cut in. Obviously I can't do that for them so…"

"They aren't happy." He ground his teeth a moment

"They are definitely not happy, but the good news I lost them for now."

"I knew this was very bad idea."

"So you said, but it was necessary."

"So YOU said."

"I'll be at the hotel in fifteen minutes we should go as soon as possible."

"Elle and I will be waiting." He hung up the phone with a self-disparaging shake of his head. Reduced to Neal Caffrey's getaway driver. He ground his teeth furiously. Then hurried back into the room to pack up.

"Hon?" Elle gave him a concerned look as he burst through the door. "What's wrong?"

"I told him to be careful. Does he ever listen? Of course not!"

"What happened?" her voice was gentle. "Is Neal ok?" she asked as she joined his packing efforts.

"He's fine, but he called and said we need to leave now. Apparently his accomplices want more money."

"Did he get her?"

"The painting? I assume so… he is Neal."

"Did he get her in the mail back to New York?"

"I don't know." He scowled at the suitcase.

"Hon… are you ok?"

"Not really." He admitted "I've made myself and you accomplices in a major museum robbery."

"To save a priceless painting." She slid her small hand around his waist. "It's the right thing to do."

"But not the legal thing. How many times in the last few years has the right thing to do not been the legal thing."

"You've risked a lot for Neal. I hope he honestly appreciates how much you've sacrificed for his friendship." In a snap his conversation with Mozzie from months ago flooded back into his mind.

"Not as much as he has for ours." He smiled at his wife. "You're right this is the right thing to do. Someday the French government will appreciate it…"

Zipping their case he walked quickly into Neal's room. The younger man's small suitcase sat neatly against the wall already packed. Of course he expected to have to leave town quickly, Peter thought as he grabbed the bag and hurried down to the rental car. Elizabeth already had the trunk open settling her small makeup bag and camera case inside. Depositing the luggage Peter looked around. He checked his watch and frowned. Neal said he would be here in fifteen minutes… twenty minutes ago.

Just as he reached for his phone to call his friend the younger man hurried around the corner. Despite his straight posture the agent had never seen Neal look so…unkempt. Bits of leaves stuck to his hair which fell in disarray around his face. His dark grey suit was rumpled and streaked with dirt. A large bruise was blooming on his left cheek. Blood had trickled and dried from his nose and lip. Though he walked quickly Peter noticed a distinct limp in his carriage.

"Are you ok?"

"I'm fine." Neal glanced around quickly, checking for tails. "We should go… are we ready?"

"I was just putting the luggage in." he closed the trunk firmly. Peter moved to the driver's seat and adjusted his mirrors while Neal sank into the back seat with a look of gratitude… grateful to be off his left leg, the older man thought as he pulled out of the parking garage.

"Hey Peter…" Neal spoke softly as they pulled onto the highway. "Does this car have a first aid kit? I think they are required in Europe."

"Why?" he glanced at the young man in the rearview mirror. The face that met his was unnaturally pale "How bad is it?"

"Nothing to panic about" Neal gave him a slightly strained smile… the busted lip and bruised cheek probably made it difficult. "But it's probably best if I don't bleed all over a rental car… we'll lose the deposit if I do…"


	11. Chapter 11

She hung up yet another call, frustrated and close to despair. Diana closed her eyes and rested her head against the chair. Nothing she was doing was going to save them… there were no more strings to pull, no more of her father's favors to call in… nothing. Theo's tiny hands pulling up on her knees brought her back to the moment.

"Hey sweetheart." She forced herself to smile for her son and received an innocent grin that revealed his two teeth. "Look at you pulling up… you are going to be walking soon." She lifted his warm chubby body into her lap and hugged him close. His little hands patted her cheeks joyfully.

"Mamamama" the little boy sang to her, making her smile more natural.

"Don't you worry, baby. Mama is going to take care of you. Even if we don't find a safe spot. Mama has a gun and I know how to survive. We will be ok… I promise." She cuddled him close and grabbed a picture book to distract both of them so her baby didn't see the tears that slipped out of her eyes and rolled silently down her cheeks. As she gently rocked him, her voice didn't falter, soothing the baby into sleep.

Diana was close to drifting off as well when her phone buzzed in her pocket. Hoping it was one of her contacts calling back she grabbed it quickly. The young agent frowned when she saw Peter's number.

"Hey boss… How's Europe?"

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"I'm ok." Neal insisted and his friend took the next exit and pulled into the first parking lot he saw. His brown eyes kept darting from the road to glance back at the younger man. Elizabeth kept her gaze firmly locked on Neal. "They're not that deep." Peter send him a glare and focused on steering and quelling his anger.

"How deep is not that deep?" he asked through clenched teeth and forced calm.

"The one on my side stopped bleeding a while ago…"Neal glanced down for a moment then back up as they slipped into a narrow parking spot. "And the one on my hip is just oozing a little… it just won't quite stop. They could both probably use a couple of stitches" the agent noted the cool demeanor and apparent honesty. "But I don't think either of them are dangerous."

"I think I'd rather let a doctor be the judge of that…" Neal didn't reply, merely shrugged. What happened?" he asked into the silence before stepping out of the vehicle and pulling the back door open.

"One of the goons had a knife. He sliced me a couple of times that's all."

"Take your coat off … let me see."

"If you just pass me the first aid kit I can take care of it. I can feel the depth of them, neither one it more than a half an inch deep." He shrugged out of his coat quickly in the face of Peter's annoyed expression, revealing a blood soaked shirt sporting a long gash on the left side. A matching incision graced the skin underneath… obviously the knife had skittered along the young man's ribs without sinking in. Neal was right it wasn't bleeding any more, but the amount of blood already on the shirt was… concerning. Pushing that thought aside quickly Peter moved his fingers away from the visible wound without touching it… turning his eyes to Neal's left hip. His dark grey pants were also cut savagely and the wound beneath didn't look particularly dangerous… not at long as the other though slightly deeper, it still wept blood slowly as his hand pulled back the cloth… He carefully probed the injury, flinching when Neal sucked in a pained gasp. His finger brushed metal in the deepest part of the gash…

"Neal… did you know there is something metal in this wound?

"No… it's not that deep… how could there be something in there?" he flinched slightly as Peter probed deeper, trying to move the object, but it was wedged solidly in place… in the hip joint. Realization slithered into his mind and sent a chill through his body.

"This is deeper than it feels. The knife tip is broken off in your hip." he asked quietly.

"Really…?" the young man looked at him in surprise "Can you get it out?"

"NO!" Peter snapped then dropped his voice "First it's wedged in there… looks like between the bones, and secondly and more importantly I don't know how much damage it's done or would do if I pulled it out. For all we know the blade may be controlling the bleeding…"

"You're right, leave it alone…" Neal hissed as his friend inspected the injury again.

"For now… I plan too, but we need to get it out… we are going to a hospital."

"Fine, if you insist… but I'm not going to bleed out in the next few minutes… can we at least get out of Paris first?"

"Neal, are the police looking for you? Will these guys report the theft?"

"I doubt it." He said between clenched teeth "Too many questions they would have to answer. What are you doing?" he twisted trying to see Peter's hands "It hurts."

"You're still bleeding."

"I know, I told you that."

"I would feel a lot better if it would stop."

"Me too… it's…" he trailed off as a sudden wave of dizziness swept through his body. He slowed his breathing and closed his eyes to let it pass "It's making a mess."

"Are you ok?" Neal opened his eyes to find Peter staring at him intently.

"I'm fine…" the stare shifted slightly into a frown. "We're never going to get your deposit back."

"I'm not worried about the deposit." Peter was openly glaring at him now "I'm worried about you looking like you're about to pass out. How about the truth?"

"Ok, I got a little light headed… I'm tired and in pain."

"And you've been bleeding for at least half an hour." He slid into the back seat beside the younger man. "Elle, hon could you drive…"

"To a hospital… sure."

"There is no reason to make a big deal out of this." Neal protested.

"I know I told my boss you are dying, but Neal…" Peter looked away and clenched his jaw.

"Don't worry…" he shot the older man a grin. "I'm not dying… all this worrying about me… it isn't good for you."

"I tend to worry when my friends are bleeding all over me." Peter turned sharply to look at the young man when he didn't immediately respond. The look of disbelief in Neal's eyes startled him.

"I'm still your friend, Peter…?" he whispered in apparent surprise.

"Of course you are." He frowned "Why would you think otherwise?"

"You said I wasn't… that I was just a…" Neal turned his face away obviously trying to hide his damp eyes. Peter clenched his teeth tighter as he remembered his conversation with Mozzie months ago. The little man said Neal had forgiven him… apparently not. He frantically sought a response…

"I'm sorry, Neal…I didn't-" he stopped when the young man met his gaze. The look in those blue eyes was not anger, it was pain, raw and ragged. Suddenly he wasn't begging for forgiveness, but to make it right. "When I said that I was…" he gulped, trying to find the words to explain "I was angry and afraid, but you're not…you are not just a… just a criminal. You are my friend, what you did was stupid and impulsive and very illegal, but given some perspective… I understand why you did it." Neal dropped his eyes and nodded just once in acknowledgement. "I was wrong." Neal gave a brief humorless laugh.

"No, you weren't. That psychologist, Dr. Summers agreed with you… sociopath." He studied his hands grimly "you were right… everyone knew I couldn't be anything else… everyone… my mother, Ellen, Mozzie… even my mom's boyfriends saw it…everyone, but me. I guess I just wanted to believe I could be worth something" He turned to stare out the window "The world will be better once I'm gone… doesn't really matter if that is today or five months from now." He rested his head against the glass "I just wish… I wish you hadn't pretended I could be more… I really wanted to believe you. I almost convinced myself…" Elizabeth made a small disbelieving noise in the front seat and drew her husband's gaze. Her wide apprehensive eyes met his in the mirror.

"Neal…" Peter began, "I do believe you can be more… I had a momentary lapse of faith, but I do believe…" but his voice caught on the lump of hot stone in his throat as the younger man shook his head and closed his eyes. He watched a single tear wind its way down the younger man's cheek.

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Mozzie was in his element and he was, if he was totally honest with himself, having fun. He had strolled into Denis Stevens' biggest opening to date, quietly laid out the money to buy four of his paintings within just a few minutes of his arrival… thus convincing the gallery owner he was a VIP customer and requested a meeting with the artist. The tall thin nervous man had been more than happy to make the introductions. Now Stevens was gaping like a fish trying to find an answer to the question Mozzie just sent ringing through the soft murmur of the gallery crowd, bringing the room to stunned silence.

"Maybe you didn't understand the question. I'll repeat it." The small man said loudly. Now that he had everyone's attention he wanted all of them to hear this. "You are a talented man Mr. Stevens so why did you feel the need to undermine the skills of your student. Were you honestly so threatened by a TWELVE YEAR OLD BOY that you had to destroy him!?"

"I'm sure I don't know what you are talking about."

"How many twelve year olds have you told they will never be an artist… I know you remember him… he was the one who could paint a perfect copy of Monet." He whisked out the painting he stole from his friend's apartment "And the one who tells me this is not art!" he held the piece up, displaying it for the room… smiling with satisfied pride at the astonished gasps of approval that circled the crowd.

"I remember him" Stevens whispered "Now please lower your voice."

"I am his voice, Mr. Stevens." He continued in clearly audible tones "The one you said he would never have. It is time he was heard… don't you think."

"He didn't have a voice… there was no identity in his work."

"He was twelve years old, of course he hadn't found his identity. Had you found you artist persona at that age? Would you have robbed the world of Da Vinci because he was not ready to paint his master pieces at twelve… of Picasso because he had not developed his style before he reached his teens?" he waved the painting sadly and addressed the patrons "This is the only glimpse you will ever get of this artist because this man destroyed him before he was old enough to shave." A murmur of displeasure swept through the crowd. His ringing phone interrupted his tirade. He glanced at it and frowned "I hope you are proud of yourself." he threw as a parting shot at Stevens and grinned at the stunned look on the man's face as he walked away.

Slipping outside he returned the call. "You rang, Suit? Tell me Neal will not spend the last three months of his life in a French prison."


	12. Chapter 12

It took a brief argument, but to Peter's relief Neal finally agreed to wait in the car while Elizabeth ran into the hospital and found someone to bring out a wheel chair. The young man tried to act as though it was a concession to their ridiculous concern, but his friend suspected it had more to do with the knowledge that he might not be able to make the walk without falling, the pain and blood loss was clearly catching up with him. He sat quietly with his head resting against the back of the seat, drawing slow controlled breaths in through his nose and out through his mouth to manage the agony he was clearly in. He hadn't said much since his outburst and when he did speak his tone was tight and his answers short. Peter kept quiet for the most part as well… allowing his own thoughts to run down their frantic tracks, trying to sort out what Neal meant by the words he allowed to escape.

No one believed he could be worth anything? No one? The agent found that very hard to swallow. The young man was a genius and incredibly talented… surely someone had noticed that, had encouraged that bright mind and those talented hands as he grew.

There was no way his overconfident friend could possibly really believe the world would be better without him… not Neal with his skills and talent. A cold shiver ran down Peter's spine at that… surely Neal didn't believe his only value lay in what he could do, that he was only important if he had something to offer…though that would explain why he was so polished, so reluctant to allow anyone to see a crack in his armor… why he never really let anyone in.

His thoughts were interrupted by a young woman knocking lightly on the window. Her soft French words caused Neal to jump slightly then plaster on his best smile. He answered her obvious question nonchalantly causing the older man to frown. Even without a full understanding of the language it was clear Neal was down playing his injuries. Peter wasn't sure the girl was buying it, her eyes seemed locked on the drying blood staining the pale shirt, but he wasn't taking any chances that his friend's treatment would be delayed.

"Remember if you convince her it's not bad we will have to wait longer" he whispered "I thought you wanted to get back on the road." Neal's expression slipped a bit and he sighed, his shoulders drooping with resignation. He reluctantly allowed the girl to see the injury in his hip before moving stiffly into the wheel chair she nudged in his direction.

Neal was escorted into an exam room. Peter followed quietly to keep him honest… once he was resting one the table they were left to wait for an available doctor with a promise it would only be a few minutes.

"What did you tell her happened to you?" Peter asked out of curiosity and to fill the awkward silence.

"Mugging."

"Seems strange to think of being mugged in Paris." Peter said quietly.

"It's a big city… it happens." He shrugged "they will want me to make a police report." He added regretfully. He sounded so tired that the older man let the conversation lull for a few minutes.

"The world will not be a better place without you, Neal." He desperately felt the need to say into the silence.

"If you really believe that Peter…" Neal stopped to breathe around a convulsive swallow "You are the only one who does."

"I do believe that and I don't want you to doubt that." The dark head bobbed in a soft nod. Then he allowed his head to rest back against the wall and regarded the older man searchingly. "And I'm not the only one, Elizabeth-"

"Thinks I only helped clear you to stay out of prison, that I'm doing all of this just to save myself…" he sighed.

"Neal." He couldn't keep the hint of warning out of his voice because he didn't believe… couldn't believe that.

"I'm sorry…I shouldn't have…" Neal whispered carefully not looking at him "and for … all of that… earlier." He smiled sadly "I'm being very… dramatic."

"It was honest." Whether Peter believed it or not he could see his friend did believe every word of it.

"Maybe… but it was unnecessary."

"Actually I think we needed to hear it." Peter watched the young man's expression "Mozzie told me you have forgiven me more than you ever asked me to forgive… I wanted to laugh at him…" Neal dropped his eyes again and remained silent "But he was right… the more I think about it I see how much he was right and I am sorry." He sighed "You are so good at being OK no matter what… that I let myself believe you really were and… I regret that, I really do."

"Please stop." Neal met his gaze with a pained expression. Peter nodded sadly. "The things that have happened to me… they aren't your fault."

"The things I blamed you for weren't really your fault either." He let the silence fall after that. When the doctor came to examine Neal, Peter was surprised when his friend touched his arm briefly…

"We're good?"

"We're good." He smiled. He couldn't shake the feeling he was the one who should have been asking.

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She bought a latte from the café in the corner of the lobby and sat down to wait, a frown playing on her face. Elizabeth let her thoughts tumble over each other in a silent cascade. Neal's words in the car had caught her off guard. He didn't really think the world would be better without him. She knew better than that. Neal Caffrey was the most confident man she had ever met. There was absolutely no way that he believed that for a second. Others might feel that way about him sometimes, but no, there was no way he really thought that way… there was an angle there somewhere… some advantage he was trying to gain... she just couldn't see it right now.

Probably because she kept picturing her husband's hand, bright and slick with blood as he waved her into the driver's seat and asked her to bring them here… and the tan upholstery in the back seat that would never come clean… because Neal had to do the wrong thing… though it really was for the right reasons this time… and drag them into the middle of it.

She had no doubts he would be fine. Neal Caffrey always landed on his feet. No matter what happened to those around him he always came out ok. Which she reminded herself was not necessarily a bad thing. After all she liked him. He was their friend even if sometimes she wondered if that friendship wasn't just a convenience for the young man… a means to an end. After all, keeping them on his side kept him out of prison… not that it mattered any more, really. In a few months she and Peter would probably be dead, along with their baby. Her stomach tightened painfully at that thought, but she forced herself to look at it honestly. They would be dead and Neal would be on his own. She didn't believe for a second that he didn't have a plan to save himself… after all he always came through on his feet, it was the most reliable thing about him.

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Peter noticed the first time the detached professional expression on the doctor's face slipped just for a moment as he examined the wound in Neal's hip. The relaxed posture of a man prepared to offer a few stitches stiffened with a slight tension as he turned and tossed clipped directions to the nurse beside him. She strode away briskly returning a few moments later with an ultra sound device.

He saw the last of the color drain out of his friend's face as the doctor's posture tightened again, more dramatically…he turned to address Neal with a grave expression. Peter didn't need to speak the language to know that something was seriously wrong. The doctor hurried away and the nurse moved to start an IV. Three more nurses were suddenly squeezing into the small room, all speaking rapidly to each other and to Neal. The apparent urgency of their movements sent a chill down the older man's spine.

"What's going on, Neal?" he watched the younger man nervously "What's wrong?" Neal swallowed and looked up at him with suddenly fearful eyes.

"The blade is… it's pressed against my iliac artery… they don't think it's cut into it but…" he hesitated "but they can't be sure until they remove it… even if it hasn't…"

"It might when it's moved…" he sighed deeply suddenly very grateful he hadn't pulled the piece of blade out. "It's going to be ok. They'll take care of you… right?"

"Yeah… I'll be fine." But he didn't sound at all sure of that.

"You must go now." The young nurse gently directed Peter toward the waiting area. He looked back just in time to catch a glimpse of his friend toying nervously with the blanket the young woman spread over his lap.

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She looked up when the door over the exam room opened, her husband's face was set in stone… pained in a way she hoped never to see. Elizabeth took a deep breath and stepped into his arms.

"How is he?"

"He'll be ok." she frowned, Peter sounded like he was trying to convince himself.

"What happened?" for the first time she was really worried, "What did they say?"

"He needs surgery." He stepped away from her. "I was grumbling at him for taking longer than he said to get to the car, and he was walking who knows how far with half a knife blade in his hip…"

"It's not your fault hon…" She hesitated a heartbeat. "Is there a lot of damage to his joint?"

"I don't know." He looked up at her with truly fearful eyes "They asked me to leave after they realized the blade may have cut into his iliac artery."

"Hon, if that were true he would be in much worse shape than he is." She said reasonably

"Not if the blade is blocking the blood flow." He sighed and sank into the chair… "They won't know until they remove it."

"How did he take that?"

"Like you'd expect… trying to convince me he's not worried, while he looks terrified."

"He'll be ok, hon." She took her husband's hand "he's Neal… he's always ok."

"No, Elle he's not… he's really good at pretending to be ok, but…he's easy to hurt."

"You don't really think he meant it, do you? What he said in the car… about it not making any difference… if he…died."

"I don't think anyone has cared one way or the other if he did for a very long time…"

"That's ridiculous. You care, I care…Mozzie cares."

"But I'm not sure Neal knows that." He sighed heavily and sank into a chair beside her. She frowned again.

"How could he not know? You've risked everything to protect him."

"And I've been rewarded with a promotion and offered a second." He sighed "as far as he's concerned that's an exchange. His skills for my protection."

"You earned that."

"I did." He smiled "but Neal played a big part in it too… What did he get from his hard work? What has he gotten out of this deal at all?" Elizabeth found to her surprise she really didn't have an answer to that. Peter stood up and sighed. "I need to make some calls… I'll be right outside." He said quietly.

Left alone in the stark hallway Elizabeth stared at her hands in silence. What had Neal gained from their friendship… maybe that was the angle, maybe he felt he was owed something… she shook her head. She was grasping and she knew it.

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Three hours.

He didn't know if three hours in surgery was good or bad, but he knew it had been exactly three hours since he had been rushed out of his friend's exam room when the petite middle aged nurse with tight lips and sharp brown eyes who sent him away appeared again because he had been staring at the steadily ticking clock nearly the whole time.

"You must come with me." She instructed in perfect though accented English. "The doctor will speak with you."

Peter and Elizabeth rose simultaneously.

"Only you" she indicated Peter quickly "We may only speak with you." With that she turned on her heal and moved away quickly. Peter swallowed harshly and looked at his wife.

"He'll be ok hon." She smiled at him and squeezed his hand. "Now go… so you can tell me what's going on." He nodded, returning her squeeze and hurried after the nurse.


	13. Chapter 13

Peter followed the nurse through the labyrinth of hallways deeper into the hospital. He thought the signs said something about surgical…

"Is he going to be ok?" he asked, but the woman just smiled kindly at him and continued up the hall. Peter sighed and hoped her brief instruction to follow her meant good news for Neal.

When he heard Neal's voice, soft and clearly still very drugged, he breathed a deeper sigh of relief and allowed himself a small smile.

"The doctor will come soon." The petite nurse assured him, her next words were less than reassuring however "Keep him in bed." She said rather more firmly than he would have expected given the fact that Neal was lying loosely in the bed, with barely open eyes, talking quietly to, apparently, the empty chair beside his bed. They were, the older man noted, giving his friend blood which indicated substantial bleeding.

"He doesn't look like he's going anywhere for a while."

"He has twice attempted to leave already." She said crisply before she left. Peter moved quietly around the bed and settled into the chair with which his friend was carrying on an amicable debate.

"Neal?" he waited for the younger man to register his presence. It took several seconds for his eyes to focus on Peter. Several more heartbeats passed before his face lit up with recognition.

"Hi." Neal's soft tones were suddenly to loud, a drowsy grin spreading over his face "Are we ready to go?" he abruptly tried to sit up despite the hard plastic brace around his waist and down his left thigh.

"No. Lay down you have to rest for a while."

"We have a schedule… can't be late." He nearly sang, still making a valent effort to coordinate his uncooperative limbs to rise.

"The schedule isn't important, Neal. You just had surgery. You have to stay in bed." He coaxed as his friend struggled to get upright. His hands moved forward to stop the younger man, but he hesitated, his eyes on the visible bruises on his face. He didn't want to hurt Neal.

"Elizabeth wants to see Rome…Spain… work to do…art … people to …save" Neal mumbled as he succeeded in pushing himself to an unsteady seat.

"Not now." Peter finally pushed the young man back in the bed firmly. "Right now you sleep."

"But…"

"Rest." He smiled "We'll discuss it when you aren't high." Neal allowed himself to fall back into the pillow, humming softly to himself until he drifted off to sleep.

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It wasn't hard to get Neal's room number. After waiting alone for nearly an hour she had simply asked at the admissions desk in her limited French where she might find him. With brief directions Elizabeth found the right hall and slipped quietly into the room.

"Hi hon." Her husband whispered from somewhere near the bed in the darkened room. She moved forward and smiled when the bedside lamp lit up casting dim light into the space. Peter sat in a chair drawn close to the bed, one hand resting lightly on Neal's shoulder.

"Hi. I was beginning to worry when you didn't come back."

"Sorry." He smiled a bit sheepishly "He keeps trying to leave… he's a little … drugged."

"Oh." She couldn't help the snicker "Why am I not surprised he is trying to escape."

"Not escape… he is determined to keep us on schedule." Peter shook his head and lightly patted the shoulder under his hand as the younger man stirred. "You're resting." He said quietly to his friend.

"So how is he?" she asked after Neal settled "Did you speak to the doctor."

"I did." Peter tried to smile but his eyes flickered down "He'll be ok…"

"But?" she prodded gently

"But it was close. The doctor said ten more minutes and the outcome would not have been so certain… half an hour and…" he paused to swallow "the artery was damaged, probably in the initial thrust, if the blade hadn't blocked it…" he shuttered slightly "his pubo-femoral and iliofemoral ligaments were both injured as well as the surrounding muscles… it will be months and possibly another surgery before he can walk without pain."

"But he'll be ok." she reminded him gently.

"He doesn't have months to recover Elle…" Peter said quietly, his eyes on his lap.

"Hon…" she wasn't sure what to say because he had a point.

"And he has two fractured ribs. Fortunately they are still in position and didn't cause any damage… and slice in his side needed twenty six stitches." He sighed softly "and his body is 'beyond the end of his reserves." Peter looked at her sadly "and he is still determined to keep us on schedule."

"Neal is nothing if not intelligent. Once he comes down from whatever they have him on tonight he will realize he needs to conserve his strength."

"Will he? He's been burning himself out for months."

"He wasn't endangering his life before… this is different." She assured him.

"Assuming he actually cares about that." Elizabeth frowned at her husband's words. Maybe on some surface level Neal wasn't concerned about his own life but she was certain deep down his sense of self- preservation was as strong as anyone's… how else could he have survived everything they had been through these last few years.

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"I told you it wasn't bleeding that badly." Neal grinned as he limped slowly to the car, after twenty four hours in the hospital. His grin widened when he received a glare in return.

"Which is why they gave you transfusions last night."

"But they let me go today."

"Because they were afraid you would try to climb out the third floor window if they didn't; brace, crutches and all."

"You're going to worry for the rest of the trip, aren't you?" his tone was teasing, but his eyes shone with that surprised gratitude that he could never hide when someone seemed to actually care about him.

"You bet I am." Peter couldn't resist returning his smile "Be glad I'm not cancelling the rest of the trip."

"You wouldn't." the edge of panic in his voice was tempered by his unwavering smile "you know how important this is."

"You have accomplished the most important part and you almost died."

"Now you're just being dramatic, Peter."

"Don't you understand how lucky you are he broke his blade…?" he drew a slow breath, remembering the conversation with the doctor immediately following the removal of the blade. "You were pretty out of it last night, so you probably don't remember the doctor telling us…the initial thrust nicked your iliac artery… thankfully, not badly, but still given the time frame if he had been able to pull it out…you would have never made that walk to the car" his lips twitched down in a worried frown.

That wasn't all the doctor said. After explaining the damage done to the cartilage of Neal's hip and the two broken ribs, the doctor had made it clear in his heavily accented English that Neal was running on fumes before the injury, declaring firmly "he must rest" and prescribing a mild sedative to be administered "by any means necessary" if he did not. He also recommended coffee to keep Neal's blood pressure up and demanded regular meals.

"Now sit down before you fall over." Peter gave the younger man a gentle nudge toward the back seat. His smile returned when Elle hurried out of the passenger seat to help Neal get settled. He watched the young man try to wave her away, then with a look of helpless resignation allowed her to support his arm as he sank into car. He didn't bother to protest when she tucked her fleece throw around him.

By the time they pulled out of the parking lot a glance in the mirror revealed the kid was asleep. Peter smiled… getting him to rest might be easier than he thought.

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He thoughtfully fingered the handmade Christmas tree decorations while he waited for the owner of the small shop to bring out his model clocks… the ones he kept in the back for serious buyers. The store was filled with time pieces intended for tourists, but Neal knew from past experience that the true artists made custom pieces as well. Turning away from the ornaments he closed his eyes against a wash of lightheadedness. He leaned heavily on the crutches to wait it out, drawing slow deep breaths.

"You are supposed to be resting." He opened his eyes at the sound of Elizabeth's voice to find her glaring at him.

"Good morning, Elizabeth. How are you?" Neal smiled brightly.

"I'd be doing a lot better if my friend who almost died two days ago hadn't snuck out of his room before six am." She did not return his grin.

"I'm sorry if I worried you." He smiled apologetically "But I have so much to get done and so little time." She frowned at him

"And a few clocks are worth your life?"

"I'll be fine." He gestured to the crutches "I'm not putting weight on my leg… I'm even wearing the brace. Which is incredibly uncomfortable by the way…" Elizabeth shook her head and gave him a small smile.

"Did you at least eat something?"

"They weren't serving breakfast when I left."

"Neal…" she frowned dangerously up at him.

"I'll get something." He flashed her a smile meant to be reassuring, but her frown deepened, "I will."

"Good." Her hand settled on his shoulder blade, directing him toward the door. "Let's go…and after breakfast you are going back to bed."

"I'll come eat as soon as I'm finished here, but I can't go back to bed." His look was meant to be confident, but she didn't seem to agree with him, as her eyes sparked with anger.

"What exactly are you trying to prove here, Neal?" she was openly glaring "What do you stand to gain from convincing my husband you are trying to kill yourself?"

He blinked… "I'm not," he blinked at her again, trying to rein in the confusion "Why would I try to kill myself, that doesn't make any sense…"

"Then you didn't mean what you said the other night? About it not mattering if you died? About the world being better off without you?" she shot him a smile that bordered strangely on smug.

"Not really…" he tried for a shrug "Of course it matters…at least for the next couple of months… as long as I'm alive I'm still useful."

"Useful?" her eyebrows drifted upward as she said it. "You don't really think that's the only reason it matters?" he shrugged and trying to ignore her shocked expression turned to greet the clock smith as he emerged from the back of the shop.

Ten minutes later after he had purchased four custom cuckoo clocks, one of which would come nearly to his waist to be delivered to June's in two months, he allowed Elizabeth to guide him out of the shop and into a small café two doors up the street in weary silence. She watched him closely as they were seated.

"Neal." Her lips twitched downward "I need you to be completely honest with me…" but she seemed to run out of words.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to upset you, Elizabeth." He really hadn't… to be honest he wasn't entirely sure how he made her angry with him, but he had found that an apology was rarely a bad idea.

"Do you have any idea what it would do to Peter if you died?" she said the words quickly, sharply.

"Yes. I know he feels responsible for me and, of course, I know how he feels about responsibility. He's told me often enough." He smiled then, but she answered with a frown, though she didn't seem angry any more.

"I'm not talking about his responsibility, although yes that would be part of it. You are his friend, Neal. Our friend… you know how it feels to lose a friend that way." He felt her eyes on him as he nodded, he did know how that felt, Elizabeth knew that, she had helped him arrange Ellen's funeral. "Can you tell me honestly you don't think it would hurt your friends the same way?" She stared at him intently until he met her gaze. When he did she suddenly looked away.

"I'm sorry, I won't say anything like that again, if it bothers you." She stared at him intensely again.

"Eat your breakfast Neal" she finally said "then you are going back to the hotel and resting for at least an hour." She sounded so… defeated, he gently lay his hand on her arm, to comfort her.

"Ok…"He conceded, his voice gentle, soothing "for a little while, but I need to get back to work by eleven… what I'm doing is important." He smiled "Don't worry, Elizabeth it's going to be ok."

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Peter smiled at his wife as she slipped quietly into their hotel suite, watching her nudge Neal into his bed room. When she turned back to her husband, Elizabeth's lower lip trembled slightly. She stepped into his arms and hugged him tightly.

"Everything ok, Hon?"

"He meant it." she stepped back and met his gaze, "He actually believes his life's only value is in his skills. How can someone so smart and confident… cocky even…" she shuddered to a stop and drew a shaky breath.

"Neal is … I get the feeling people have been using him… most of his life."

"Like who? I know you thought Kate was, but…?"

"Long before Kate, his belief that, that was love was a symptom not a cause… at the time I thought it was willful self-delusion, but now… he honestly believes that is the way relationships are… an exchange. People use each other to get what they want."

"And he's really good at it?" her expression hardened visibly for a moment.

"Actually." Peter sighed "when he's not trying to run a con, in his real life, he's really bad at it. He allows himself to be taken advantage of by people he cares about."

"Like Kate and Mozzie?"

"Like us."

"Us? Hon, we've made him a part of our family…"

"When it was in our best interest… and then pushed him away when we thought it wasn't."

"That's not true." She stared up at him aghast. "Where is all of this coming from?"

"I've thought about it a lot since his release was denied. For example his tracker showed him at our house nearly every day after his father framed me until I was released… since I trust my wife I assume he was over there to help you around the house and to strategize how to help me."

"Of course hon, but what does that have to do with…?"

"But as soon as I was out as soon as we got what we wanted, we told him we needed some distance… perspective. Now I know what I was feeling and I'm pretty sure I know what you were feeling, but did you ever consider how it felt to Neal, whose own father had just used him… conned him. Then suddenly we seem to blame him…"

"Confirmation that he was valuable as long as he was … useful." Her voice cracked. "and he's always so surprised when someone does something kind for him even though he has nothing to offer in return…how did I not see it?"

"Because he didn't want you to." Peter drew a slow breath and pulled her close "I think he is secretly afraid that he is only one… that he deserves it somehow."

"And we missed our chance to prove to him otherwise." She sighed as he kissed the top of her head gently.

"Hopefully not"

)()()()()()()()()()()()()()(

"I sent you a crate of wood work, Moz and crate of glass work from the Black Forest. They should be there next week."

"I'll be watching for them."

"I also sent you another box of Christmas ornaments."

"Why are you buying ornaments for a holiday that we will never celebrate again?"

"Maybe I'll find a way to stash them in Lancaster's collection. Just take good care of them, like the other's they are fragile."

"Speaking of fragile… How are you doing? The Suit called me when you were hurt."

"I'm fine…it's just my hip. Crutches are a pain but…"

"He said you bled quite a lot."

"Why the worry, Moz? I've lost blood before."

"But in times past you were not so… shall we say… worn down. Nor were you continuing to push your body to extremes following…"

"I'm fine. Elizabeth has decided she is in charge of when I eat and sleep."

"Good." Mozzie hesitated "Are you supposed to be sleeping right now?"

"Maybe." Neal's sigh whistled through the connection "And I plan to as soon as I hang up with you… I hate to admit it, but my body thinks I need to sleep more too."

"Nearly bleeding out has that effect."

"I suppose."

"I made the trip to St Louis, Chicago, Detroit and the Dakotas as you requested. What do you want me to do next?"

"I know how you feel about the south, but the Appalachia's and the Gulf States are next."

"While I may have my concerns about the mannerisms of the area… for the greater good I will take the risk… I assume you are also interested in the Amish quilts of Pennsylvania… as they are on my route."

"And the furniture… and recipes." Neal grinned "I can't tell you how much I appreciate this."

"Yeah…well if you're too busy to give your neighbor a helping hand, then you're just too darned busy."

"You and Marie T Freeman are very wise… and I am grateful."

"Well you could return the favor by finding a way for us to survive this coming catastrophe."

"I'm working on it, Moz, I'm working on it…"

After he disconnected the call he frowned at his phone… he really should make a few more calls… his thumb hovered over the buttons… and he drifted off to sleep.


	14. Chapter 14

Neal sank wearily into his chair and started up his computer. His first day back, his hip ached deeply, the lighter brace he still wore made bending uncomfortable, his ribs still ached when he moved to quickly and he was so tired... but he didn't have time to be. The doctor had warned him that he would likely be anemic for several weeks and that fatigue was to be expected, but it had been more than two weeks, he should be up to speed by now. He admitted reluctantly that he wasn't exactly helping his own recovery, but he just had too much to do, to many promises to keep… He blinked and ran a hand over his eyes, noticing his fingers trembled slightly. He probably should have rested more in Europe, but then half of his trip would have been wasted. He couldn't afford that. He would not get a second chance to meet with all of those museum curators and gallery owners in person. Already the pieces being loaned for Mr. Lancaster's "exhibit" were beginning to trickle in…

Forcing his eyes to focus he logged into his profile and pulled up the search engine. He could keep his promise to Sara right now and see what her lead on her sister would turn up in the FBI data base.

Running Penelope Rain through the system brought up a list of minor charges from the five years prior to her vanishing act…Neal frowned as he read it, prostitution at eighteen, drug possession at nineteen, drunk and disorderly at twenty, assault charges… dropped due to both parties throwing punches… then abruptly… nothing. Neal dropped his head to his hands. Honestly it might be best if Sara never found her. He tried again looking for references to the name rather than arrests. He found two birth certificates listing Penelope Rain as the mother and one case file reference… as a witness to a murder in an apparently random mugging gone bad, the last date he could find. Contact information listed was a detective in Chicago PD. That was not particularly helpful.

"What do you think you are doing, Caffrey?" Diana leaned over his desk her eyes on his screen. He considered lying, but he wasn't actually doing anything wrong and his exhausted mind couldn't come a decent story anyway.

"A favor for a friend."

"This friend wouldn't happen to be short and bald, would he?"

"No…it has nothing to do with Mozzie's desire for access to FBI case files." He smiled at her. She tried to return his look, but she appeared nearly as tired as he felt.

"It's for Sara… I was trying to help her find out what happened to her sister before… you know." By unspoken agreement neither of them had mentioned their impending doom out loud.

"Oh." She leaned closer "looks like you might have a lead… that mug shot resembles Sara enough to be her sister."

"Yeah, but her last known contact is a Chicago detective… I haven't been able to get any farther than that…"

"Sometimes PD will do that." She frowned quietly "if they have a witness they think might be in danger, but the case isn't worth the Marshal's resources they will relocate the person themselves… it's complicated."

"So we need to actually talk to this detective."

"Yeah…" Diana's frown deepened "but I don't promise you he will divulge… any good cop will take that responsibility very seriously."

"So what do we do?" he met her gaze

"Let me talk to him… I actually have a badge number. I might have a better chance of getting what you want. If that fails we can try running facial recognition software on that picture, but that's a long shot."

"Thanks I owe you one."

"You better not forget that, Caffrey."

)()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()(

Alex drifted through his apartment brushing a hand over a sculpture, a priceless painting, an antique foot stool and a stack of old books. She felt like she was browsing in the most bizarre secondhand store she had ever seen. Clearly Caffrey was taking this game seriously… and he wasn't worried about his FBI keeper knowing what he was doing… She was done, finished with whatever he was playing. She had come to tell him she was bowing out. Three and half months of this and she still didn't know what the end goal was. She had contributed twenty two very nice pieces to Lancaster's collection, and while he paid well, she could have made more selling the art herself. She strolled over to the balcony doors and allowed herself to gaze a moment at the painting on the easel. It was beautiful and frightening and seemed to almost reach out and pull her in…. it really was unlike anything she had ever seen Neal paint…what had been going through his mind to create something like this?

"Alex?" his voice startlingly close made her jump "What are you doing here?"

"At the moment trying to figure out what's going on with you." She looked him over and fought the urge to stare in disbelief. Every line of Caffrey's body read utter exhaustion. He tried valiantly to straighten his slumped shoulders as her eyes flicked over them, to smooth the strain, weariness and… pain on his face into an easy smile, but she doubted the ceases there would ever be erased. His blue eyes still sparked when she looked into them though and his hand on her arm was steady as he guided her to the table and drew out a chair for her. She couldn't help noticing that he favored his left leg heavily and kept his other arm tucked protectively around his ribs. Sitting delicately she asked "What is the goal with Lancaster?"

Neal sighed and didn't look at her as he limped into the kitchen, opened a very nice bottle of wine and poured her a glass. "Survival" he finally answered her, as he sank slowly into the chair across from her. "It's complicated Alex"

"It always is." She reached out a tentative hand and brushed his hair back gently from his pale face. "What does he have over you?"

"It's not just me. If it was just me I could find a way around it, you know I could." he traced a pattern on his table quietly for a moment "it's everyone… every single person I care about. You, Moz, June… Even Peter and Elizabeth…"

"Tell me about it?"

"I can't…please trust me when I tell you, you are better off not knowing."

"Trust you Caffrey?" she scoffed "I trust you about as far as I can throw you…"considering him again she added "which at the moment might be farther than I think. Don't you eat anymore?"

"I eat."

"Sure you do… I'll bet you sleep too, right?"

"I do." he grinned, a weary shadow of his bright smile. "Mediterranean sound good to you?"

"So you're going to feed me to prove you eat."

"Well I was thinking you could pay." His grin widened as he held up her credit card.

Alex smiled and shook her head "Even dead on your feet you are still the best. Now give me that. If I'm paying I'm choosing what we eat." She stood up and trailed a hand over his shoulders "why don't you lay down while I order."

"Alex…"

"Half an hour will not be the end of the world, will it?"

)()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()(

"You going to come in or are you going to stand in my door way all night?" Neal barely glanced over his shoulder as he hung up his phone and continued packing up the remaining items for his delivery. He limped painfully across the room. Agonizing pain ran through his hip with every step and his weariness seemed to be constant these days, but he grinned at his friend's hesitant expression.

"You were on the phone." Peter shrugged "it sounded important."

"Because we both know how well you speak Mandarin." He shot his friend another grin.

"I may not speak the language, but you remember even a bumbling FBI agent can pick up a thing or two without understanding the words. Did you get what you were arguing for?"

"Partially… terra cotta warriors, by the way. I was trying for a couple thousand… they are sending three hundred." his voice cracked harshly

"Three hundred terra cotta warriors is pretty good."

"It's not enough. There are hundreds of thousands of them and we'll save three hundred! Each one is unique and they are all going to be gone in nine weeks. Nine Weeks! And there is not a single thing I can do to stop it!" Neal spun away, striking out blindly at the easel in his way sending the painting there tumbling across the floor to strike the wall with a crack. Shocked at his own lack of control he stood on trembling legs trying to catch his scrambled emotions.

"Neal…" Peter's voice sounded uncertain. Neal flinched regretfully.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have…" he gestured to the easel and the destroyed painting. "It's been a very long day."

"It's been a very long six months…" Peter stepped forward and dropped a hand on his arm.

"I'm fine." He smiled over his doubts.

"I know you are. You always are…" he hesitated, smiling sadly "But you don't always have to be. I know how hard these last three years have been for you and I know how tired you must be.

"At least it's almost over. I can rest soon." He allowed himself to be guided to the couch. He sank into the cushions quietly. "It will be good to be finished."

"We aren't giving up, Neal" He sighed, joining his friend on the couch "Elle and I are leaving town in a few weeks… going somewhere in the mountains, I want you to come with us."

"I don't know… I'll be pretty useless after…"

"D*** it Neal it isn't about useful, you're family! Families stick together."

"Not always." He couldn't keep the pain out of his voice.

"I know it felt like we were kicking you out of our family, and I'm sorry about that. We weren't… Families do get angry and fed up with each other, you know, but they don't give up on each other without a fight."

"Sometimes they do, Peter." He dropped his eyes and sank into a chair. His fingers idly traced the grain of the wood on his table top. He thought of his mother… of Sara and Alecia, Marcus and Cara… "More often than you think."

"I can't erase the past, Neal, we've both messed up a few times. I'm sorry for my part in that… I really am, but you have become family and Elizabeth and I want you with us. We want you with us… no matter what."

"Even though I can't really help you?"

"Even if you couldn't help us, which I don't believe for a second by the way. You are the frustrating little brother I never asked for. I may want to lock you up somedays, but I'm not going to leave you behind."

"Thanks… I think." Neal dropped his head back against the couch… and smiled at him gratefully.

)()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()(

Miles knew he was staring, his mouth hanging open in disbelief, his hands trembling as he held the carefully unrolled canvas in gloved fingers. Caffrey stood there grinning triumphantly at him though he resembled a wraith that might dissipate in the next puff of the slight breeze. Clearly this latest shipment had cost him more than money.

"Is this real?"

"Absolutely."

"I'm holding the Mona Lisa in my hands? Da Vinci's master piece here in my hands." Miles hands trembled little and his smile was luminescent. Unshed tears glittered in his eyes.

"It's an interesting sensation, isn't it?" the kid chuckled wanly

"To put it mildly." He gingerly rolled the fragile canvas back up and slid it into the aluminum tube. "Thank you. I won't ask how you pulled it off, but… sincerely, thank you." He settled a solid hand on the slim arm before him "you have no idea… this…" he held up the cylinder "this was always my father's favorite painting. My dad never had two cents to rub together, but he loved art… every chance he got… every time he could put together enough for tickets he would take my brother and I to an art museum. He always dreamed of going to Paris to see her in person… I was finally able to take him the year before he died. Thank you so much."

"She means a great deal to many people."

"I'm sure of it and you saved her for those of us who have those precious memories and for future generations too."

"I didn't do it alone." He smiled, a mere faded ghost of the brilliant grin he had flashed Miles the first time they met just a few months ago.

"Perhaps not, but you delivered her. Neal, are you ok?" he had to ask. "You are wearing yourself out on this… you will need your strength to survive this mess."

"My skills aren't exactly… useful for surviving what's coming." His shoulders rose and fell in a resigned shrug.

"Maybe they are more useful than you think."

"We'll find out soon." He was right, they would soon find out… less than two months on the clock counting down… Miles looked at the tube in his hand and the truck loads of treasure behind them and smiled… "Next month will be your last delivery… I want you to stick around afterward, I will have something to show you."


	15. Chapter 15

He had a plan… it was an excellent plan for saving himself and Neal. Of course Mozzie knew the kid wouldn't go along with it unless the plan had enough wiggle room to include June, Alex and several assorted suits. He frowned at that thought, he didn't want suits in his haven, but he was willing to compromise for selected ones. The Suit and his wife would be an absolute, non-negotiable, Neal would not budge on that, he knew. He didn't mind the junior suit to much… he could be fun and Mozzie admitted he almost liked the lady suit, scary as she was, and he loved baby Teddy.

The land he bought in the Rocky Mountains was well above the tsunami level… it was remote enough it would be unlikely to be found. He would stock it with livestock and food… and sadly guns, because anyone who did find them the next few years would try to steal it all. He knew all too well that desperate people were incredibly dangerous. They would have to be ruthless in their defense of their home. That thought hurt him a little, but it would be necessary.

The chances of surviving there long term were admittedly rather low especially when one considered the volcanic nature of the surrounding mountains, and the already harsh winter climate, but they were far better than any other plan he had come up with.

Neal wasn't much help with the planning these days, he was to busy, to focused on the art, and far to worn down. So Mozzie was stepping up, buying the livestock and the necessary supplies to feed them through the long dark years that were coming… though he had no idea how he was going to keep the animals warm though the asteroid winter. Fuel to keep generators running that long was problematic too…

)()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()(

Elizabeth considered her home. In just a few weeks they would be leaving everything behind, except what they could carry in their car. She didn't have any guarantees about the future, but if she and Peter could reach high enough ground, they might have a chance… a tiny chance of surviving. They would take Neal with them if her husband could convince him to come… probably caravan with some of Peter's team… She rubbed her hand over her stomach and smiled slightly as her son responded with an enthusiastic kick. They would need as much food as possible, and enough clothes to last… and she would want to bring as many of their pictures as she possibly could. Which reminded her she needed to get the photos from their trip into an album.

Pulling out the envelope she flipped through the pictures. Realization hit violently… all of these places would be gone in less than two months. The tears she had frantically held back ever since Peter told her about the meteor suddenly spilled over. Curled on her couch she let herself sob for the first time, pouring her helplessness out into the throw pillows. She couldn't protect herself, or her husband and their son… or their friends and family.

Dusk was falling outside when her frayed emotions finally settled enough to dry her eyes and picked herself up. She grabbed the empty photo album from the coffee table and began placing the pictures inside, she would want to show her son someday she told herself. She might not be able to protect her family, but if they all stuck together they might just be able to protect each other… she desperately needed to believe that.

)()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()(

The call to Chicago PD had not gone as well as Diana would have hoped. After being put on hold by seven different people and disconnected twice she finally reached senior detective Lawrence Hayes. He listened quietly as she explained that she was an FBI agent working an old missing persons case for a Emily Ellis and that she had connected Miss Ellis with Penelope Rain. She sighed as if in frustration telling him sincerely that there were no leads after Miss Rain dropped off the grid.

"I can't help you Agent Berrigan."

"This woman ran away from home at seventeen, twenty years ago… her parents have since died. I know her sister would desperately like to find her."

"I truly am sorry Agent Berrigan, but I can't help you track the young lady down."

"I know you took it up on yourself to protect her…"

"I made a promise to a frightened young woman after her home was invaded and her child threatened by the man who murdered her friend. I gave her my word he would never find her."

"Ok…" Diana ground her teeth for a moment. "Ok. Would it be possible to send her a message through you?"

"I might be able to do that for you… depends on the message."

"Just tell her Sara is looking for her… if she wants to contact her she can, through Agent Diana Berrigan at 917- 253- 7528."

"I'll pass on the message… assuming I can still find her."

Disconnecting Diana clenched her jaw and glared at Neal when he chuckled.

"You think you would have had better luck Caffrey?"

"Maybe…" he shrugged "maybe not, but that was pretty entertaining."

"Well at least it probably got the job done."

"Probably." He tried to contain the grin.

)()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()(

Jones frowned as he watched Neal walk across the room. His friend moved slowly, shuffling his feet and limping noticeably. He used a cane since he came back from Europe to maintain his balance and cold rainy day's like today he leaned on it heavily. Whatever was devouring the young man it had not consumed that mischievous grin, Neal shot it at him as he passed his desk. He paused to lean his right hip against edge of the desk.

"Have you ever noticed that Lisa Grey loses her place in her files when you walk past?"

"Seriously? You are trying to set me up, Caffrey." Jones gave him a weak glare.

Neal shrugged and flashed that grin. It looked out of place on his too thin face.

"Don't. Just don't." Jones shook his head "If I want a girlfriend I'm perfectly capable of finding my own. Thanks"

"I'm sure you are." That grin again. "I just thought you might want to know."

"Well now I know." He smiled. "How are you doing?"

"I'm good."

"Right. You look like you are in pain… and I know you if you look like you are in pain, you are in agony."

"I've had better days, but I'm ok."

"If you need to go home I'm sure no one would mind." Jones told him "Harrison mentioned yesterday that he's concerned about you. I am too… you shouldn't have to be here when you are…"

Neal lay his hand on his friend's arm "Jones, please listen to me. Don't worry about me. Whatever happens to me… I'm ok with it. I've made peace with the situation, but I haven't given up hope."

"I know. And if anyone can cheat death, it would probably be you."

"Thanks I think." Neal laughed.

)()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()(

The room would have been cavernous if every square inch had not been packed with large wooden crates. Narrow dimly lit aisles ran like tunnels though the rabbit warren of wooden slats. Each crate bore a neatly printed manifest and a list of the names of people involved in their conservation. Neal couldn't even guess the path to the back of the massive space as he stood beside Miles in the small area left at the front of the room. Crates towered over their heads to a nearly forty foot ceiling.

"It is magnificent, isn't it, Neal?"

"It really is. I know it's only a drop in the bucket compared to what will be lost, but…"

"It is still the most impressive and diverse collection of the arts anywhere in the world. Nearly two and a half million artworks and historical artifacts… nine hundred and fifty- thousand different books preserved here." Miles smiled easily at the younger man. "Thanks in no small part to you."

"I was grateful for the chance to do my share." Neal lay a hand on the nearest box to support his slender frame as exhaustion caused the underground warehouse to loop lazily. When his eyes focused he read 'Cooper, Scott, Poe, Shelley…' Books apparently his weary mind concluded after a moment's thought. He wondered why Mr. Lancaster was showing him the stored art… and prayed that it meant what he hoped it meant.

"Neal, my friend, nearly twenty five percent of the treasures stored here came curtesy of you. I hired fifty two people to preserve the art and you have done one fourth of it. " Miles grinned "Don't you think for a moment I will forget that." He lay his hand on Neal's shoulder and guided him back into the elevator. "Come on… I didn't actually bring you down here to show you the art."

"You didn't?" he couldn't keep the desperate hope from seeping into his voice.

"I wanted to show you something better… since you gave me the idea, I thought you should be the first to see the finished project." The large freight elevator slowly chugged its way up to the next set of doors. When Lancaster pushed them open after a brief struggle with his keys Neal stared at the space, trying to piece together in his weary mind what he was seeing. A large expanse of space opened up to his left while steel walls rose up to the right and in the distance.

"Is this what I think it is?"

"All of the times you pointed out that my employees working on this project deserved a fair chance… I heard you. There are one hundred and eighty six apartments down here, enough for my construction workers and my art conservation crew as well... As you can see there is space for more, but… we are out of construction time…" he strode into the area waving to the right "Here we will house a school, a clinic and the commissary…and anything else our small community will need."

"Community?" Neal was reeling. In his wildest dreams he had not dared hope for anything so massive.

"Once everyone brings their families we will have a community of around nineteen hundred people." Lancaster turned to fiddle with the lock on the second door to the right in the center hallway.

"It really will be like a small town." Neal managed weakly.

"It really will." He grinned throwing open the door "And this will be your apartment. I will be trying to discourage more than about ten people to a family… in general. You on the other hand have earned the right to be the exception to that rule."

"What does that mean?" he swallowed hard not daring to believe what his eyes were telling him.

"Save your family, Neal" Lancaster grinned broadly "All of them. This is the only six bedroom apartment in the whole community. I had it build especially for you." The younger man moved around the space as though in a daze, pushing open doors, exploring the apartment in weary delight.

Neal's mind finally seemed to catch up with reality as he stood trembling with disbelief in the middle of the living space… "Thank you Mr. Lancaster" he his voice was faded, but his grateful smile was luminous. "It's fantastic."

"You've earned it my boy" the older man declared hardily. "More than earned it. Now go home and get some rest tonight. You can start packing tomorrow."

With all the tension of the past months suddenly released, Neal felt like a jack in the box bouncing wildly at the end of his loose spring. His hands trembled and his legs suddenly felt as though they weren't sure about holding him up. His mind slipped out of focus slightly as Miles' hand guided the younger man back to the elevator. He was out in the sunshine before he regained his ability to self-propel his exhausted body.

There was still so much he needed to do, so many people he needed to call, arrangements to make, packing to do… not so much his own packing, Neal didn't actually own all that much, he had even donated most of his borrowed suits to Lancaster's collection, but June would need help with her things and… Peter and Elizabeth, who knows what Mozzie would want to bring, Diana would need things for a growing boy…He suddenly found himself standing in the lobby of the town's only hotel unsure how he found his way there. It was probably for the best, he thought, driving back to Manhattan in his current state was probably a really bad idea. He could afford to let himself rest one night now.

He checked in drowsily and found his room with half closed eyes… Neal clutched his phone in his hand. He needed to make a few calls before he slept. He would just close his eyes for a moment…


	16. Chapter 16

Looking around the office Peter frowned. It was well after ten o'clock and Neal was nowhere to be seen. Even in the chaos of the last seven months he had never been anywhere near this late. Knowing the places the younger man had been frequenting recently concerned him. Knowing how little sleep he had been getting, how very far off his game Neal was lately didn't help.

Peter could think of a dozen things that could have gone wrong. Pictures of muggings involving guns or knives made his mind reel. Just a few weeks ago Peter told his friend he was part of their family and he meant it. The thought of losing him in the coming disaster was sickening. Now he was suddenly afraid he would lose the kid before the asteroid hit.

"Jones, I need you to pull up Neal's tracking information."

"Peter?" the younger agent looked startled. He hadn't made that request in more than six months.

"He's not here." Running a hand over his face and through his hair. "I'm concerned"

"Oh." Jones' face twisted in understanding "He hasn't been looking good lately. There he is."

"Where?"

"Little town in the mountains." Jones zoomed in "Looks like Caffrey is in the hotel."

Peter leaned close "the hotel?"

"Yeah." Jones shoulders tensed slightly. "Peter, he hasn't moved in almost twenty four hours."

Jones followed his boss quietly into the hotel. Caffrey's tracker said he had been here for the last twenty seven hours… without moving. He tried not to think about what that meant. He knew his friend had limited time… probably less than a month now. What if he had finally given in to the illness that had been slowly devouring him? The manager opened the dark room for them and stepped away. The curtains were partially open letting in a bit of the late afternoon light to fall across the unmoving form on the bed. Jones couldn't contain the gasp. Neal lay on his back with pale face and closed eyes on top of the blanket of a still made bed, his hand rested on his chest, his fingers curled loosely around his phone. He wore his suit … even his shoes and tie. He didn't stir in the slightest as they approached. Jones bit his lip as Peter moved forward and gently shook the younger man.

"Neal? Hey… wake up." The older agent called quietly. There was no response. Jones swallowed hard. It would be just like Caffrey to come here… to choose this quiet little town to die in. Peter shook the unresponsive form a bit harder "Come on. It's time to get up." This time he received a groan and a mutter that sounded like it might have been go away. Jones felt his heart start again. The young man wasn't dead yet. "Neal, not that I'm not thrilled to see you sleeping, but you need to wake up… you are starting to freak Jones out." Peter sounded amused. What could he find amusing about Neal possibly being down to his final hours.

"Hey Peter." The young man was abruptly awake, sitting up and running a hand over his eyes. Jones found himself releasing a breath he didn't know he was holding "I was just going to call you."

"Really?" Peter raised his eye brows doubtfully "Because your tracker says you haven't moved from this exact spot for the last twenty seven hours."

"I slept a whole day?" he chuckled "I really must have been tired."

"You could probably stand to sleep three or four more, but right now let's get you home."

"No!" his eyes suddenly lit up as his memory apparently caught up with him "There is to much to do to sleep."

"No, Neal you are finished, you made your last delivery yesterday."

"What delivery?" Jones asked but the other two men ignored him.

"I know, that's what I was going to call you about!" he leaped from the bed with more energy than Jones had seen from him in months "Since you are here I'll just show you." He straightened his clothes quickly and practically ran out of the room.

He watched his friend hold a brief, but animated conversation with Miles Lancaster. Peter hadn't seen Neal act so excited in a very long time. A full day of sleep seemed to have done wonders for the young man, even though it had not even began to erase the grey rings under his eyes or bring the color back to his face.

"He's having a good day today." Jones said quietly

"The rest was good for him." Peter smiled "he hasn't been sleeping well."

"For a minute there I thought…"

"Yeah. I know" Peter studied the younger agent, wondering if he should tell him the whole truth. At that moment Neal hurried back to them clutching a key in his hand. With a wave he led them down the long tunnel into the mountain to a large freight elevator.

"Where are we going?" Jones asked. Neal grinned

"You'll see… What would be the fun of telling you?"

The elevator descended for a brief eternity before it opened into a cavernous space. Neal walked briskly across the cold grim area and into a wide hallway dwarfed by the massive room. The young man unlocked a heavy steel door and pushed it open, stepping out of the way to let them enter.

Peter found himself in a vacant steel room with several doors leading off to the sides.

"What do you think? It's mine. Mr. Lancaster's gift for my hard work." His grin was triumphant. Peter stared in speechless disbelief.

"It's an apartment?" Jones' tone said it was a query.

"It's an apartment."

"Not sure I see the appeal… it's pretty… um…"

"Spartan." Neal supplied "repressive."

"Well, yeah, especially after your place at Mrs. Ellington's"

"Until you know what it means." Peter finally found his voice. "Neal… this is…"

"I think you and Elizabeth will like this room. It's not very big but…" He pointed to the first door on the right."

"Are you sure?"

"As long as you think you guys can stand living with me for the next five to seven years."

"I thinks we might be able to tolerate you that long." He grinned "after all how much trouble can you get in locked up in a steel vault."

Neal grinned broadly "Well…"

"I don't want to know."

"I do." Jones interjected "someone want to tell me what's going on.

The first shipment of hay he ordered being loaded for delivery. Mozzie watched quietly. He had to make sure his animals didn't stave in the next few years. He had no idea how he was going to keep them warm enough, but they would not go hungry. He had plenty of food being moved to his land in Colorado.

A ringing phone startled him making the small man jump. It took a moment for him to realize the devise was in his own pocket.

"Hello" he answered quickly. There was no reason to give away unnecessary information to an unknown caller.

"Mozz!" Neal's voice sounded strange. "It's ok Mozz! Everything is ok!"

"What are you talking about?" Have you been drinking?" he frowned when the kid laughed. There was a light joyful sound to the mirth that he hadn't heard from his young friend in a while… a long while actually.

"No, I haven't been drinking. Though I have an excellent vintage tucked away I've been saving… I just might crack it open when I get home tonight. We have a lot to celebrate." If Neal wasn't drunk Mozzie thought then he was losing his grip on reality. There was nothing to celebrate… he couldn't imagine ever having a reason to celebrate ever again.

"Neal?" he asked carefully "are you ok."

"I'm great. Lancaster came through. I knew I could plant the idea in his mind and he would do it… that he would think it was his own idea. I never expected him to go so big… I thought a few rooms for… I don't know twenty or thirty people… a hundred on the outside but he built a whole town down there… room for two thousand people…"

"What are you saying?" He couldn't believe his ears. It sounded like Neal was suggesting that he had conned Lancaster into building a safe place for them.

"Lancaster built a community into the bunker where he is putting the art. It's beautiful… absolutely perfect… well a little… dull… repressive but we will be alive. We will all be alive." His grin carried through the airwave and Mozzie couldn't contain the joyful shout that escaped him. He immediately bit it off and clamped his hand over his mouth. "Hey" Neal spoke quietly after a minute. "are you still seeing Sally sometimes"

"Sometimes." He hedged… a couple of times a month counted as sometimes.

"If you want to give her a call… I'll find room for her in our place."

Staring out the window as the scenery slid past outside, Jones tried to settle his mind around the information he was just assaulted with. An asteroid nearly the size of Manhattan was going to wipe out roughly ninety-three percent of the species on earth… and humanity planned to survive the slaughter by hiding millions of people, roughly one percent of the population at best, in steel bunkers deep underground… Jones shook his head, unable to fathom that everything he saw out there would be gone in less than a month.

Of course, Neal Caffrey found a way to survive. Not only had he found a way to survive, he was offering Jones a bunk in his apartment. It was kind gesture, but Clinton found himself thinking of his sister and her kids. Linda had just gone through a nasty divorce, she deserved some happiness. Instead she was going to get… nothing… death for her and her kids, while her single childless brother got a free pass curtesy of the resident con-artist at his office. It wasn't fair, but neither was asking his friend to make space for a woman and kids he never met.

"How many people do you plan to offer a home?"

"Besides you, Elizabeth and Mozzie" Jones tuned back into Neal's voice as he spoke from the back seat. "And Jones, of course, I plan to ask Diana if she and Theo want a space. And I need to talk to June… she'll want her daughters and granddaughters…and maybe her house keeper and cook… Sara and Alex are covered, they'll have their own places… Then there are a couple of my street artists I would like to bring… if I can. They're just kids and they deserve a future." Neal chuckled "I wonder if Alex would like a cook and a house keeper… she doesn't have much family… just her eighty year old grandmother."

"Neal even if June's staff and their families lived with Miss Hunter you are still talking about fifteen or sixteen people in a rather small space."

"I know." He grinned "that means I still have room for a few more… there are six bed rooms, four people in a room gives me space for twenty four… I'll have to think about the extra bunks."

Jones cleared his throat "Neal… I truly appreciate the offer and I don't want to seem… ungrateful, but if you have extra space… I have a sister with three kids, they are pretty small, my nephews are nine and six and my niece is four…" He looked back and winced at Neal's shocked expression. "If you have room"

"Of course you are bringing your sister…" Neal grinned at him "the apartment is for my family, you've become family that makes your sister family too."

She was carefully packing her small suitcase with the most practical clothes she could find when Peter came through the door grinning like a condemned man given a pardon.

"Elle! Hon!" He called as he strode across the room and wrapped his arms around her joyfully. "Neal did it! He said he would find a way to make sure we were ok."

"He told me that too hon." She kissed her ecstatic husband lightly "what did he do?"

"He talked Lancaster into building a little bunker for his personnel… including Neal and his family. He offered us a bed room."

"Really?" she hardly dared to hope for what she was hearing.

"It's not big, ten by ten for the three of us, you, me and the baby, but…we will be able to survive." Peter chuckled "that's why he was pushing himself so hard. To convince Lancaster to save his employees."

"We have a future…" she rubbed her hand over her distended abdomen "our baby has a real chance?"

"We have a future. You will have to coordinate with June and Diana on the furniture we'll need."

"June and Diana?" she suddenly frowned "I thought you said it was Neal's apartment, hon he should get a say… we can't just to take over…"

"It was his idea. Neal doesn't actually own much furniture…"He frowned slightly, "Or much of anything actually. I think he has a few of Ellen's things in storage… he might want to bring some of them, but… he doesn't really have much other than his clothes."

"Oh…" she hesitated "so outside the bedroom how big is this apartment?"

"Maybe a thousand square feet… it has six bed rooms. I have no idea how many people Neal plans to crowd in there though."

The information Detective Hayes sent was not what they hoped for. Neal stared at his phone trying to will himself to dial Sara's number. Shaking his head at his reluctance he pushed the buttons.

"Did you find out anything?" Her voice sounded so hopeful. He cringed slightly.

"I did. Penelope Rain changed her name to Jennifer Wilcox and moved to Brooklyn fifteen years ago."

"Then she's there… right there in Brooklyn?"

"She was… Sara, she died last year."

"Died…?" he flinched at the disbelief and pain in her voice. "Are you sure?"

"Yeah… cause of death is listed as liver failure."

"Oh…" he could hear her pulling her composure back together "Thank you, Neal for looking into it for me."

"There's more, Sara and it's better news."

"Better news? Just about anything is better news than my only family is dead."

"How about she wasn't your only family."

"Pretty sure she was. Well, other than my cousin Danielle and her son…"

"Emily was married… and had three kids."

"She had kids?'

"You have two nieces and one nephew… and a brother in law." Over the line something shattered. Then a moment of silence echoed in his mind before she found her voice again.

"Thank you Neal." She said sincerely, "If I went to meet them… do you think you could come with me?"

"I might be able to work that out." He grinned


	17. Chapter 17

Sara bit her lip as they walked toward the neatly kept town house. Her fingers clutched Neal's arm so tightly he flinched, but her back was straight and she knocked firmly on the door.

A few seconds passed before a young woman opened the door and gave them a polite, questioning smile

"Hello." Sara managed before her voice gave out on her.

"Is your dad home?" Neal asked for her

"Whatever you are selling, we don't want any." The girl started to close the door.

"No." Sara said quickly "Please let me see your dad."

"What's going on, Bree." A tall man with a straight military bearing appeared behind the girl.

"They say they aren't selling anything…" she stepped back, disappearing from view.

"We're not, Mr. Wilcox. You are Daniel Wilcox right?"

"Dan. What can I do for you, ma'am?"

Sara took a deep breath and plunged in "Dan, I believe your wife was my sister. I've been searching for her for years… since she ran away when I was thirteen."

"My wife passed away last year."

"I know." She swallowed hard "I…"

"Sir, my name is Neal Caffrey and this is Sara Ellis… Sara doesn't want anything from you except information. She wants to know about her sister."

"What does she want to know?" he asked suspiciously.

"How did you meet?" Sara began "Was she happy? Did she have a good life with you?"

"Not personal information?"

"No" tears shone in her eyes

"Then come in… We'll talk" he stepped back and held the door open for them. Sara saw Neal suppress the urge to grin. Her brother in law was confident in his caution, but she could see Neal's thoughts on his security sparkling in his blue eyes.

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"It's a bit somber, isn't it?" Diana turned slowly, surveying the apartment. It was her first chance to see the place and she was clearly not impressed.

"It will be more comfortable once we have our own things in here." Neal assured her.

"I'm sure the apartment will be, but I was talking about the whole place. Nothing but steel walls. H*** of a way for kids to grow up. I guess I should be glad they are growing up at all and it sure beats what they would get up there, and I am," she gave him a grateful smile. "I know you didn't have to offer Theo and me a space, but… it is a bit…"

"Grim" Neal sighed "I know" He brightened "Maybe we could make the whole place more homey." He followed her back to the elevator to make the slow eight hundred foot assent back to the surface. His expression was thoughtful as he stepped back out into the sun. His eyes fell on the kids running through the park, blissfully unaware that everything they knew was about to end. If only they had any chance at a real future… his heart ached for those children, who would at best be deprived of anything resembling a childhood, and who would most likely be dead with in the year. Tearing his attention away from the innocent kids, his gaze fixated on the playground. If only their bunker had something like that…

Why couldn't it? There had to be a way to provide the kids down there with a bit of a playground. He frowned… more than a playground, they needed a bit of the outdoors. Grass and sunshine and flowers… actually the grass and the flowers… even trees wouldn't be that hard to provide… to bad he couldn't convince the town to give them that play equipment … it would be perfect… not too big, but big enough to be fun… Maybe…

The idea came together into a plan. Neal's lips turned up gleefully. If this worked not only would his friends' kids have a space to be kids, but maybe not all of the local kids would have to lose their whole future either.

"Hey Diana!" he ran to catch up with her "I have an idea."

"Am I going to regret asking about it Caffrey?"

"Maybe." He couldn't keep the mischievous smile from his face "But you are going to like it too…"

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"This is the big secret… your end game for this con was surviving an asteroid?!" Alex glared at him.

"Well I did say it was about survival…" Neal raised his hands defensively

"You knew all along didn't you?"

"Yeah I did." There was no point in being deceptive now as her eyes pinned him to the steel wall. "I was trying to save us… and the art."

"You could have just told me." She sighed, exasperation written in her eyes.

"And you would have believed me…? Even if you had it wasn't easy information to live with… it still isn't, but at least now I know it worked… we will have our best shot at a future."

"Yeah, me and my grandma will have a little windowless apartment in a steel prison… maybe I would prefer to take my chances above."

"I can't stop you if that's what you decide to do, but as your friend, please Alex don't…" he pleaded before his lips tugged up. "I can even offer you a cook and a house keeper…"

"Really?"

"Really. And they are very good."

"What do I have to do?" she eyed him suspiciously.

"Ask Lancaster for a three bed room apartment. One room for you and your grandmother one room for the cook and her family and one room for the house keeper and her kids…"

"You want me to share a room with my grandma?"

"Please. June loves her staff like family and I already have twenty four people in my place."

"D*** it Caffrey! Why do you always do this to me? You and your heart are going to be the death of me." She glared at him for a moment, but her expression softened involuntarily "Fine I'll do it…but you will owe me. You are insane." She smiled "you know that, right?"

"Sociopath or so I've been told."

"Then we finally found something you are bad at Caffrey. You are the world's worst failure at being a sociopath." She smiled fondly then and brushed a kiss across his cheek. "So who else do you plan to save today?"

"Well…"

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Climbing the steps to Alecia's hotel room Neal steeled himself for the young girl's reaction. He was prepared for suspicion when he proposed what he had in mind. He was braced for her to demand he bring her father, even though he really hoped she didn't. He expected to be disbelieved entirely and kicked out abruptly. He was not at all prepared for quiet acceptance.

"Alecia?" he frowned "are you ok?"

"I'm great…" she turned away from him "I should have known it was too good to be true… me… I was going to be a famous artist…" she looked over her shoulder at him, tears shining in her big brown eyes. "The end of the world… sounds about right. My father was right, I'll always be a nobody."

"No, you won't." Neal stepped closer tentatively "You have the chance to be whoever you want to be… I'm offering you a chance."

"A chance to survive… and then what? You think art is going to be in high demand after the crisis is over? They are going to need famers and… things like that."

"Well yes." He drew himself up and looked her in the eye. "Most famous artists were not famous in their own lifetime. If you find yourself farming in the daytime and drawing at night… then so be it. That doesn't make you nobody." He shrugged "I can't and I won't try to force you to take my offer… it's not much… just a single bunk in a relatively safe place, but if you want to come, here is the address." He wrote the information out quickly and placed it in her hand "or you can just call me if you need help moving your things."

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Marcus thought they were all crazy. Huge asteroids only fell out of the sky in movies. So why was he here… helping pack up some girl's art books and teddy bears. He glanced across room at the girl in question. Her long brown hair falling forward into her face as she snapped the lid on a plastic bin, long shapely arms stretched out before her. She glanced up and smiled at him, her bright green eyes shining. Well, there was one reason… he returned her smile and gave her a little wink. Cara blushed slightly before going back to her bin. Marcus chuckled. Flirting with the ladies involved in this crazy mess was a good reason to help. So was the good money Neal paid him for his tagging skills… the man might be crazy, but fifty grand for a few cans of spray paint that was worth some loyalty

He would help pack up… help them move to their "bunker" then he would take his things and his money and see the world. Or maybe enroll in college somewhere. Kids from his neighborhood didn't get opportunities like this handed to them this way. He was not going to let this chance slip past him without taking advantage of it.

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"Tell me again what we are doing here?" Peter glanced out the window of the department store, down at the shopping bags in his hands, then back at the jewelry in the case in front of him. "Because for the record I think you are crazy."

"You are buying gifts for your wife and son for the next few years' worth of Christmas, birthdays and anniversaries… and Valentine's days if you want too… because you aren't going to have anywhere to shop any time soon." Neal winked at him "don't worry I'll help you remember the dates."

"I wasn't worried about the dates." Peter sighed "The world as we know it is ending and you think we are still going to celebrate holidays…?"

"Why shouldn't we?" Neal grinned, but his eyes filled with a deep sadness. "We are going to need all the celebrations we can get in order to survive. Reminders that we are still alive."

"Maybe, but I still don't know what I should buy Elizabeth for our twentieth anniversary… seven years in advance."

"Something she will love no matter when you give it to her." His answer earned him an exasperated glare before Peter turned back to the case with a tired frown. Neal sympathized, they were both exhausted from packing up their belongings then loading the moving truck the last three days… first at Peter and Elizabeth's house as well as Alecia's and Cara's small apartments three days ago. Then they worked at June's and her daughter's the day before yesterday. Yesterday they had loaded Diana and Jones' things as well as two of the younger agents and Marcus's things. Mozzie claimed he was bringing his own stuff because he didn't want any suits invading his homes. Jones and Marcus were driving the truck to the bunker today. Everyone was caravanning with them except Peter and Neal… who were shopping. "She likes chocolates… and candles."

"You told me not to get my wife things like that."

"That's when you could pick them up at any store… a couple of years from now they will be as rare as diamonds."

"Why aren't you shopping, if this is so important?"

"First I'm not married and I don't have any kids… secondly who says I haven't already done my shopping?" he had in fact done all of his shopping… last week, before he packed.

"Right… of course you have. That's probably what was in those twenty boxes we carried out of your apartment the other day." he looked up at the young lady behind the counter "I'd like those two bracelets, those three necklaces, that watch… and that ring." he said quickly

"This one?" She held up a diamond ring with two heart cut diamonds set in platinum roses. She gave him a knowing look that said he must really be in the dog house.

"Yes that's the one… that should be good for twenty years right?"

"Sure." Neal nodded his approval "She'll love it."

"Good, let's pick up some chocolate and candles and get out of here."

"A few new clothes wouldn't be a bad idea either."

"Good point."

"And for your son to grow into too." Peter rolled his eyes, but he followed his friend without protest.

"I hope my card can take this."

"Well I could just lift the stuff for you."

"Neal." Peter stared at his friend in disbelief.

"What?" the younger man met his gaze "it's not like you are going to pay off the card anyway."

"I would if I had the chance."

"Yeah… if you had the chance to pay off the card I wouldn't be offering to steal for you." How Neal managed look so sad and mischievous at the same time Peter would never know.

They headed for the front of the store an hour later, after nearly maxing out Peter's card. A low rumbling sound suddenly filled the air and as they watched a ball of flame trailed across the sky… a moment later the ground shook with the impact as the meteorite made contact with the earth in the middle of Central Park. The shock wave hit a few seconds later, shattering the glass in the windows and throwing both men from their feet!


	18. Chapter 18

He blinked his eyes and shook his head. The chaos didn't fade. Peter slowly pushed himself up with his elbows looking around in shock. Everywhere people were stumbling to their feet looking as stunned as he felt. Brushing his fingers lightly over his stinging cheek he found a shard of glass imbedded into his cheek bone just below his right eye. He shivered slightly at its proximity to his eye, but it missed. He carefully pulled the sliver from his skin.

"Neal?" he called, but frowned as the ringing in his ears drowned out his voice. He looked around quickly and froze. The younger man lay against a counter, surrounded by dropped packages… his eyes were closed and he didn't stir, despite Peter's nearly panicked calls. Shoving aside the clothing rack that lay against his hip nearly burying him in shirts, the older man scrambled to his friend's side. Laying his hand on Neal's shoulder he resisted the urge to shake him. "Come on… wake up!" he whispered urgently.

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"This would be so much easier" she thought "If we parked the moving van inside." Diana pushed a dolly with six boxes carefully stacked on it down the ramp, preparing for the long walk to the apartment when the low rumble drew her eyes to the sky. Her blood ran cold as several fireballs streaked across the sky.

"Jones!" she called urgently to her friend in the truck. "Come here, you need to see this!"

"What's u…"his voice trailed off as he caught sight of the disappearing flame trails. "I thought we had two and a half weeks."

"I think those are just precursory strikes…" She gulped "You know smaller asteroids displaced by the big one."

"D*** I didn't even think of that." He whistled "Hope they don't hit a metropolitan area… they could…" they both nodded, trying not to picture the dangerous burning rocks crashing into New York City as the ground trembled slightly under their feet.

"I hope Peter and Neal are ok." Diana added

"I'm sure they are. Caffrey's a survivor and he wouldn't let anything happen to Peter."

"Yeah, I'm sure they are fine." She forced a smile "We should get the rest of this stuff inside."

"Yeah." Jones hesitated. "We could call them."

"Maybe we should." She agreed. Dialing Peter's number the two younger agents held their breath as it rang… once… twice. By the fifth ring Diana was starting to worry. At last Peter's shaken, breathless voice came though the line…

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Ignoring the restraining hands on his shoulders and picking himself up off the floor Neal surveyed the chaos that had become the New York street outside. His head throbbed furiously, violently protesting his change in position. He swallowed harshly as the panicked images before his eyes slid in and out of focus. The hands moved to his back as if to support him. The ringing in his ears muffled the screams of terrified and injured people, the distant sirens and the clink of shattered glass under his unsteady feet, but not enough to erase the horror of the scene. He felt the hand on his arm and glanced to the side. Peter looked as stunned as he felt, with blood running freely from a cut under his right eye and another along his jaw…

"Take it easy." The older man's lips said almost soundlessly. "Are you hurt?" Neal blinked and shook his head. He couldn't prevent the wince that it caused.

"Sore" he admitted reluctantly "but I don't think anything is broken." Peter just nodded, frowning.

"I'd say the secret's out." His lips said.

"If it isn't it will be by the end of the day." Neal nodded to the sky where more fire balls streaked toward their violent ends.

"We should see if we can help anyone…"

"Yeah." Neal agreed as he bent to retrieve his friend's packages. He staggered. The broken doors in front of him made a slow loop before they settled.

"Leave them…"Peter's face suddenly filled his vison as he felt hands grasp his arms to steady him. Neal saw his friend's lips say. "They aren't important."

"Yes, they are." He swallowed back the queasiness that tried to register itself in his brain. "You still need them." He blinked furiously to force the older man into focus before he stepped away headed for the car.

"Maybe we should get you checked out…" Peter's voice reached him distantly as the other man's hands took the bags from him.

"I'm fine." He set his jaw and breathed carefully as he focused on his balance.

"You're always fine… you were fine with a knife in your hip." The older man frowned "You're dizzy and you were out for at least a minute, you probably have a concussion."

"And the paramedics have much more important things to do than look at a minor concussion." He waved toward the half collapsed building across the street and the half a dozen visible car accidents. "And you look like you could at least use some stitches yourself." The older man brushed his hand lightly over the still bleeding cut on his cheek bone and grimaced.

"D*** it Neal…" Peter frowned and sighed, acknowledging defeat "If you start feeling worse you'll let me know?"

"More dizzy or disorientated… confused or nauseous… you'll be the first to know." He gritted his teeth, pushing the pain back and stepped outside. "But right now let's drop these off quickly because there are a lot of people who need help more. " he smiled as the car came into view.

"I have a first aid kit in the trunk, at least let me take a look at you."

"Fine" Neal shrugged "but quickly… we need to get back out there."

In the mad house outside there wasn't much they could do to help, but they did what they could. Crawling in through a broken windshield to keep a young man trapped in the mangled sports car still and calm, Neal was vaguely aware of Peter's gaze still resting on him. He shot his friend a glance. The older man was crouched next to an elderly woman who sat on the curb clutching her chest. He spoke calmly and soothingly to her but his eyes were indeed locked on Neal. The young man smiled at the kid in the car.

"You ever have a friend that worried about you too much?" he asked the kid conversationally. They teenager grinned wanly and nodded.

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He had just helped carry a couch from the freight elevator to the tiny apartment when his phone buzzed… again. Marcus pulled it out and glanced at the screen. His buddy Jeff had texted him about twenty times while he was moving the sofa. He frowned as he read the messages. Each one seemed to get more frantic.

"Hey man did you just see that? It was really something, right?"

"You ok, man?"

"Marcus come on this ain't funny."

"Text me back man!"

"Please tell me you're alright!"

The young man frowned as he typed out a message for his frantic friend. "I'm fine. What's up? I'm out of town."

"Thank G**" the text returned instantly.

"What's wrong man?"

"A freakin METEOR just hit in central park! Hundreds of people are dead man!" Marcus felt his stomach hit his shoes. It couldn't be true…

"A meteor? You're sure?"

"I saw the d*** thing streak across the freakin sky… if it wasn't a meteor then someone just hit us with a warhead man." This meant they weren't crazy and his best friends was going to…

"Are you ok?"

"Yeah, I'm good… Selena too."

"Then get out of town! Find high ground"

"What?"

"Something bigger is coming, a lot bigger… think end of the dinos bigger. Get away from the coast! Come here man. I've got a safe place, I'll hide you guys." He'd figure it out. There was the attic space… it wasn't big, but he could hide them up there and feed them part of his food. It wouldn't be pleasant, but they would be alive.

"Where are u at?"

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Night was falling when bloody and exhausted Neal and Peter staggered into Peter's half empty home and collapsed on his floor. The couch was gone, but the coffee table and TV still occupied the living room. Peter pushed himself up after a few minutes and shuffled to the kitchen. He really didn't feel like eating after everything he had seen today and he was pretty sure his friend was still fighting down post-concussion nausea, but they both needed something in their stomach. Rehydrating was probably a good idea too. He mentally thanked his wife for leaving them supplies for lunch in the kitchen. When he returned with sandwiches and two big glasses of water he flicked on the TV. Neal managed to look at him like he had lost his mind even from beneath half closed eyelids, but he took the food and water without comment.

A news reporter with a somber expression informed them that seven relatively small meteorites struck the East coast… the death toll was expected to be nearly ten thousand… with tens of thousands more injured. A moment later the report was interrupted by the image of a defeated looking president stepping to a podium. They watched as he explained in grief stricken tones that today's disasters were only the beginning… that approximately three million people had already been moved to shelters in hopes that the human race would survive the coming apocalypse.

After the president's brief speech the TV fell silent as even the unshakeable reporters tried to process the horror of the revelation. In the silence Peter turned off the set and shook his head.

"We should get some sleep."

"Yeah…" Neal was completely drained, his head was pounding, and the room swayed gently around him, but he doubted he would sleep easily tonight.

"We've known for months that this was coming…" Peter said quietly.

"But it feels… real tonight."

"Yeah."

"There's nothing we can do about it."

"I know."

"Yeah…" they fell quiet, sitting side by side, shoulder to shoulder against the wall.

"You want to drive to the bunker tonight?"

"We might as well." Neal gave him a weary smile "Elizabeth will be worried about you."

"I'll drive you get some rest in the car."

To Neal's surprise, rocked by the motion of the car sleep came quickly.

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Elizabeth stared at her tiny bedroom, hers, Peter's and their son's. Jones and Harrison had set up her bed and the baby's crib. Their chest of drawers sat on one wall next to a small wardrobe. A small book shelf nestled in the corner. There would barely be room to walk around when they were unpacked. Right now every available inch of floor space was filled with boxes…

After the news report she desperately wished her husband was here. At least he had answered his phone after the impacts, so she knew he was ok, but she wanted him here, solid and safe to hold her.

Lonely and worried she sat on their bed and started unpacking the first box she reached. It contained the keepsakes she brought from their home. A wedding picture of herself and Peter smiling brightly lay on top, just below it was the shot of Peter and Neal a couple of years ago. Beneath that were pictures of her parents and Peter's. She stood up slowly and placed the photos on the top of the shelf. She pulled out several CD's, three candles and a small china figurine and placed them on the shelf as well.

She continued unpacking, her heart aching with a heavy mix of grief, fear, gratitude and guilt. She lined her picture albums up on the next shelf, pausing to glance quickly through them. She sat a bottle of her perfume and one of Peter's cologne in front of them, as well as her hair brush before a tear ran silently down her cheek. Before she knew it the box was empty. She filled the bookshelf with their favorite books from the next two boxes.

The next box was bedding, so she made the bed with the open sheets, one of her grandmother's quilts and her favorite comforter. She plumped their pillows and placed them carefully and folded one of her husband's quilts across the foot. She put sheets and a blanket in the crib… she pushed the rest of the bedding into the bottom of the wardrobe. She pushed a box of baby toys under the crib, and a plastic bin of towels into the space between the chest of drawers and the wardrobe. She hung their clothes and placed undergarments and pajamas in the middle two drawers… the bottom drawer was for baby clothes and the top drawer held their toiletries… a couple of boxes of spare underwear and toiletries went under the bed. She had just finished sorting through the last box when the door opened, with a soft creak.

"Wow! It looks great hon…You didn't have to unpack everything alone."

"I know, but I needed something to keep me busy." She offered her husband a weak smile.

"But all of this… is it safe? For the baby?"

"I'm fine, I didn't lift anything to heavy…"

"Why aren't you sleeping?"

"I couldn't sleep." She fell into his arms and held him tightly. "I'm so glad you are here."

"Me too." He smiled "I'm glad we decided to drive up tonight."

"Neal too?"

"He's sleeping on the couch." Peter sighed "It's as far as he made it. I didn't have the heart to push him any farther."

)()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()(

Sara knocked firmly on Dan's door. She held her breath and hoped someone answered. An eternity passed until the door creaked open. Her nephew opened the door slowly, the boy was pale and clearly shaken.

"Hi… Haydon right? Is your dad home?"

"Yeah… he has to go back into work soon, but…"

She followed the boy into the tidy living room. Dan stood up to meet her, exhausted and slightly pale, he wore a rumpled Air Force uniform and a surprised expression.

"How can I help you, Sara?"

"Actually I was hoping to help you." She took a deep breath "I know we don't know each other well or… at all really, but… I have a space in a private shelter… it was built by the man who built the bigger ones and…" She smiled hopefully "You are my only real family… I mean I have a cousin and I've invited her too, but I was hoping you and your children might want to join me. It's a three bed room apartment. It's pretty small and it would be tight, but we would all fit." She watched Dan rest his eyes on the three kids, his daughter, his step daughter and stepson that he had raised since they were toddlers. Slowly a relieved smile pulled up his lips and when he met Sara's gaze again, tears shone in his eyes.

"I can't thank you enough for the offer, Sara. I have a duty to stay here, a job to do, to minimize the chaos until the end, but" He glanced at the kids again. "I want them to come with you. If that's ok?" She flinched, she hadn't planned on becoming their parent, but how could she say no

"Of course it's ok" she smiled a bit tightly "If they want to come."

"They will go with you." He looked at the kids sternly

"But Daddy." The younger girl, Miranda protested "if you stay here you'll die. I don't want to be an orphan!"

"I know you don't, but I want you to go… please."

"I'll give you guys some time." There wasn't much time… not nearly enough "I'll pick them up tomorrow morning?" Dan nodded.

"I really can't thank you enough… just knowing they are safe will make what I have to do so much easier."

)()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()(

Neal found the man he was looking for sitting at the desk in his office staring vacantly at his limp hands resting in his lap. Rubbing his temples to push back the headache that lingered there even after a full day of rest. He cleared his throat. The man didn't respond.

"Mr. Mayor?"

Dull brown eyes pulled up to meet his then dropped back to his fingers.

"My name is Neal Caffrey and I need your help."

"I can't help anyone… haven't you heard… the world is ending."

"I have actually. That is why I need your help."

"There is nothing I can do…" Neal pressed his eyelids at that response trying to force his eyes back into focus and his hold onto his patience in the face of the man's fatalistic attitude.

"You can't stop what's coming, but my boss, Mr. Lancaster has built a bunker to survive this mess, right here just outside your little town."

"Good for him."

"Our problem is the space is a bit… severe. There are a number of children down there… I wanted to provide them with a park to play in… you happen to have a very nice park just up the street, and another lovely playground at your elementary school." The mayor just blinked helplessly at him. "How many children live here, Mr. Mayor?"

"About two hundred… and they are all going to die." He choked out.

"No, they are not!" Neal glared at the despondent man "I will persuade my boss to take in two hundred and fifty of your town's people as long as children are the priority… the rest… the adults would have to be responsible for caring for them… in exchange for your playgrounds … and the contents of your city and school libraries." For the first time the mayor actually looked at him.

"What's the catch?"

"No catch, just a simple exchange." The young man grinned at him.


	19. Chapter 19

"Moz? What is all of this?" Neal stared at the large truck filled with crates. His eyes darted between the back of the vehicle and the small man before resting briefly on Mozzie's friend Sally in the passenger seat. She gave him a bewildered shrug. "You know the apartment is small right?"

"This isn't for the apartment… this is my contribution to the community." At that moment several more trucks made the turn toward the tunnel… they appeared to be carrying live stock.

"Cows, Moz?" Neal shook his head "What are you planning to feed cows for the next five years?"

"Hay obviously." The bespeckled man shook his head as if Neal was dense "And grain."

"Why cows?"

"Milk."

"You don't even drink milk. You're lactose intolerant."

"True…but… other people aren't."

"So the cows are for milk… What about the rest of your petting zoo?" Neal pressed his fingers into his aching eyelids, his head never seemed to quite stop hurting these days. "What all do you have in these trucks?"

"There are twenty-five cows plus two bulls. There are thirty-three ewes and two rams and eight goats with one ram, as well as ninety-eight chickens and four roosters." Mozzie seemed very proud of himself "I also brought Estelle and some of her friends and my rat Percy and some of his cousins. And one hive of bees."

"Bees? Moz what if someone is allergic?" He resisted the urge to shake his friend

"These animals are necessary for man kind's continued enjoyment of life. I also have turkeys and pigs being delivered."

"And they and their food will take up space… lots of space."

"It will be fine… we'll make them fit."

"We need a space for the kids down there to play."

"Of course we do." Mozzie smiled gently "I promised I would help you with that, didn't I?"

"So where are you planning to put the cows… and sheep, goats, pigs, and chickens?"

"In the storage level above… there is lots of space up there even with all the food and toilet paper."

"If there isn't room for them we are throwing them out."

"Fine." He waved at Sally "I also brought twenty eight servers… I'm going to have Sally start downloading everything she can from now until the big bang."

"Are you ok with that, Sally?"

"For Mozzie… yeah. Besides knowledge is a powerful thing."

"Thank you. The rest of us will appreciate that. Focus on medical procedures first, and educational things..."

"I'll give her a list of ideas…" Mozzie waved his hands enthusiastically "Starting with the fake moon landing" Neal smiled

"Mozzie?" Neal interrupted to head off the tirade "You do know we are sharing a room with Jones?"

"I can tolerate the junior suit."

"He's not a fan of rats… your friends might have to reside in the attic space."

"That isn't fair. Rats have rights too you know."

"Have you lost your mind?" Miles' gaze was polished steel.

"Mr. Lancaster, please let me finish." Neal put on his most convincing smile.

"You are asking me to let two hundred and fifty more people into our shelter. There won't be enough food and supplies. Your little friend has already brought in his crazy menagerie. I will not endanger the people I have taken responsibility for Neal. Not even for you."

"That's just it. I'm not asking you to do it for me. It is for the good of the whole community." He opened his hands and waved toward the open space. "Have you noticed how dark and grim this place is… you will have suicides by the dozens within the year. Even those who don't try it will be depressed and that isn't conducive to good health.

"And adding more people to mix is going to fix that?"

"No." Neal grinned easily "Adding more people is the trade-off for the solution. We are going to build a community park… with a playground. It will have a running track, grass, trees and flowers. I'm thinking maybe a pool and a community garden. We'll also have the foundation for a library… and a school. We'll all have to work together to build it, but it will be excellent for morale."

"A park would be good for morale…" Lancaster looked thoughtful. Neal cheered inwardly "But how are we going to feed two hundred and fifty more people? Not to mention all the other things they will need…"

"Don't worry about it. It will be taken care of. Extra food, medical supplies and toiletries… even beds and bedding. I will handle it." His smile was as reassuring as he could manage. "Just get part of your construction guys working on building a space for them to live… two large rooms plus bathrooms would work. And send a small crew up to disassemble the playgrounds at the city park and the school… I will take care of everything else."

"If course you will." Lancaster shook his head "But if we starve…"

Marcus slipped out of the apartment quietly when he got the text from Jeff. He almost ran to the elevator, but he didn't want to draw to much attention to himself. He did break into a sprint down the long dark tunnel at the top. When his feet stepped out into the dim pre-dawn morning, passed the dozing guard, Marcus grinned. He wrapped Jeff in a quick one armed hug and whispered

"You made it."

"We made it… now what do we do?" Jeff grinned

"Grab your stuff and follow me. I have an idea."

"Does this idea involve an attic?" Selena asked

"No, it involves a storage room."

"I guess that's better." She didn't look all that sure of that.

"What about my car, man"

"I'll have to move it," at Jeff's crestfallen look Marcus almost rolled his eyes. "Don't you get it man? It's the end of the world. This place might keep us alive. The car is just a car."

"But I worked three years to get her, she's my baby."

"I'll try to move it into the parking area when I can, but a car is not a priority. Sneaking you in here could get us all kicked out, now come on." To demonstrate the need to get moving he scooped up two of Selena's bags and strode down the tunnel quickly. Jeff and Selena hurried after him with their arms loaded.

Leading them deep into the bowels of the huge storage area he found the quiet corner in the maze of artificial halls created by the massive pallets of supplies, he had plotted out yesterday.

"You can stay here… at least until they seal us all in."

"Here?" Selena looked around doubtfully.

"It's better than out there." He replied quietly. She nodded fearfully and spread out her sleeping bag… it looked new, Marcus wasn't surprised. Selena had never been the sleeping bag type. She positioned her pillow and sat down with her arms around her knees. He realized with a start her hands were shaking and tears hovered in her eyes. A glance at Jeff showed he was just as shaken.

"Hey it's ok. It will be ok." Marcus tried to offer comfort.

"People are dying out there." Jeff whispered brokenly "You don't even know what it's like… We saw three people get killed on the way out of town. Everyone has lost their minds!"

"You're safe here. I promise." He settled in against a wall of toilet paper. "In a few years we'll leave this place and we'll be ok." he slid an arm around Selena. "The three of us… forever, right?"

"We'll take on the world like always." The others agreed like they always had.

"Good." Marcus grinned "Get some rest. I've got to be where I'm supposed to be before anyone wakes up." He stood up, with one more look at his friends he walked away.

"Are you planning to hide them there forever?" the soft voice startled him not ten feet from the hiding place.

"Agent Burke what are you doing up here?" he tried to grin confidently.

"I could ask you the same thing, Marcus, except I know the answer."

"Please don't throw them out." He pleaded desperately "throw me out if you have to, they can have my bunk just please… they are my best friends. They have been since we were four. I promised them they would be safe!"

"It's not my job to throw people out." The older man frowned "But you know resources here are limited… more people means we need more supplies."

"Yeah I know."

"Good. Neal is organizing a team to get more supplies." His gaze was intense "I suggest you volunteer to be on it."

"I will." He nodded quickly

"Good, now go back to bed."

"Moz…" he hesitated looking around the room at his volunteer crew… twenty three people. They had less than two weeks, a crazy plan, and twenty three people… Neal took a deep breath "Moz I need you to take five people and bring the outdoors in. You will need some sort of barricades to hold the dirt in place and at least fifteen tons of soil… more would be better. You'll need trees in the biggest pots you can find… fruit and nut are preferable. You will need flowers and fruit baring plants… berry bushes and grape vines… follow your instincts. You will need sod. Get plenty of gravel for the running track and sand for under the playground."

"No problem, my friend." The little man pushed his glasses up firmly on his nose. "I can recruit plenty of people for earthmoving. They don't have to venture far outside the shelter."

"Thanks. The rest of you pair off. We will take the moving trucks in the parking area and drive to any and all surrounding towns. We are looking for non-perishable food… canned goods, pre-packaged stuff, root vegetables are ok too. After food medical supplies are the next most important thing. Over the counter and prescription, bandages and antibiotic ointment… whatever you can find in a drug store or an abandoned clinic. We also need toiletries… shampoo, conditioner, soap, toilet paper, towels, cleaning supplies, bunk beds, and bedding . School supplies and books or movies of any kind are an added bonus. So are sporting goods like balls and gloves…" he looked around at the little group, meeting Peter's eyes as he finished his list. He was surprised to find his friend watching from the door way "We don't have much time and it will be chaos up there. Encourage your friends and family to volunteer… we need all the help we can get. Let's get to work, this is basically an impossible task, but we are going to pull it off." He grinned as cheers erupted from his little group. Neal closed his eyes to ease his aching head and prayed that they could actually do this.

"Won't be the first time you have pulled off the impossible." Peter said quietly. The younger man's eyes snapped open.

"It's for a good cause this time."

"Yeah."

"You sure you should be helping? Your son is due in just six weeks, with all the stress he could come anytime, I'm pretty sure Elizabeth will want you here for that."

"I plan to be." He grinned "Diana and Jones are planning to help too… they just didn't make the meeting… and your friend Marcus… he's a good kid."

"I know." Neal chuckled "I knew he was planning to help he told me this morning. I'm going to pair him up with me."

"Be careful up there, Neal."

"Aren't I always?" he broadened his grin and shrugged at the small scowl he got in return "In all seriousness…" he met his friend's eyes "You be very careful… you have a wife and very soon a son who will need you. It's going to be crazy like we've never seen up there. You make sure you make it back to your family no matter what."

"I'll promise that… if you will too."

"Ok, deal. I won't take any unnecessary chances."


	20. Chapter 20

The chaos Neal assured him they would find had been surprisingly absent… the roads leading out of the coastal regions were packed with cars as millions of people tried to flee the mega-tsunami that would soon be tearing through the area, but the lanes leading into the towns they had visited were empty and the towns themselves had been hauntingly quiet. Peter and Jones had seen all of three people in them over the course of the last nine days, though curtains frequently dropped back over windows as they drove past, hinting at far more people who had chosen to wait for death in their homes.

Small meteor falls had caused some frantic moments the last few days as they became more common. The news on the radio said they were falling all over the world… nearly a million people had been killed worldwide already. The human race was in agony and the worst hadn't even began.

Heading a bit farther out for their eighth and final trip the two men didn't expect to be back at the shelter for three days, bringing them back to the safety of the shelter just thirty or thirty-five hours before the doors would be sealed for at least five years. In the hustle and bustle of their work Peter had noticed that several more volunteers had joined them… all of the large moving trucks seemed to be occupied. This morning two trucks were being unloaded… one carrying books and the other appeared to have emptied out an office supply store.

Jones pointed out a canned vegetable processing warehouse just ahead. Peter nodded and took the exit. He parked quickly near the door. As they started to climb out of the cab a shot rang out…. Both men drew their weapons as a second shot pinged off the side of the truck.

"Back off!" a voice commanded "this is our food!"

"I don't see a vehicle." Peter called back "How are you planning to move it?"

"We're not!" A younger voice called back "We can defend this place against anything! We are well armed!"

"Can you defend it against a two hundred foot wall of water?"

"What?" the first voice responded

"The impact is going to cause a four thousand foot tsunami… you are at thirty-eight hundred feet." Jones explained "that leaves you and this warehouse under two hundred feet of water moving at three hundred miles per hour..."

"What are you saying?" the frightened man sounded confused.

"If you stay here you will die!"

"Where else are we supposed to go?"

"Higher ground." Peter suggested. "Take all the food you can carry and move to higher ground."

"Don't listen to them dad!" the younger voice argued "They just want our food!"

"Get out of here!" the older voice snarled "Let me think!" a dozen shots peppered the truck drowning out the argument inside the building.

)()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()(

Neal grimaced as he looked at his left arm. He was pretty sure the wrist was broken and the shattered glass he landed on had left an ugly jagged gash up his forearm. His constantly aching head was pounding to the rhythm of his racing heart. He kept running. What choice did he have with half a dozen crazed New Yorkers chasing him? They seemed to think this was their territory. It didn't take some people very long at all to go feral, he thought. The whole thing was ridiculous… their territory would be under four thousand feet of water in just a few days but they were apparently ready to kill to keep him from taking their bandages and Tylenol. He rounded another corner, bringing their moving truck back into view. Ahead he saw Marcus step around the vehicle with something in his hand. The boy raised his arm and positioned his feet carefully.

The shot echoed hollowly in the alley and behind him Neal heard a muffled grunt. The shouts of anger turned abruptly to cries of distress. He risked a look over his shoulder. One of his pursuers lay unmoving on the ground… two others bent over his limp form… a fourth man was raising his own weapon while the last man swore vilely at him.

"Don't try it!" Marcus called.

"You son of a b****!" the armed man screamed "You've killed him!"

"I'll kill you too if you don't drop that weapon and leave my friend alone." Marcus sounded terrifyingly calm. Neal stared at him in disbelief as he continued to stumble toward the boy. Behind him the men continued to swear, but there were no more shots. The world tilted dizzily as he reached the truck. Marcus grabbed his arm to steady him and Neal felt the tremors tearing through the teenager's frame. Clearly his calm was only skin deep, but the gun in his hand didn't waver until the men backed off carrying their stricken friend.

"You ok?" Neal asked his young friend. Marcus choked on a laugh.

"Pretty sure that's my line." He said through pale lips. "You're bleeding everywhere."

"It's not that bad… I've had worse." Neal forced a reassuring smile even as the world made another slow revolution before his eyes. "You just shot a man… that's kind of a big thing."

"And I'll probably freak out later… right now you need bandages and stitches and probably an X-ray…"

"Probably… but those things aren't that easy to come by these days…." It took him by surprise when his knees suddenly buckled. Marcus did his best to control the older man's fall.

"Well we are going to find them right now…" He muttered as he wrapped a worn towel from the truck around Neal's arm and wrangled his nearly pliant form into the cab.

)()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()(

Abandoned garden stores were surprisingly creepy, Mozzie silently decided, as he followed Diana between the still damp, but silent fountains, stone eyes staring at him despondently as he passed. Somewhere an automatic sprinkler kicked on. The fact that he had been traipsing through these places for more than a week did not improve the situation at all. Two days ago they had almost come to blows with a man over a strawberry plant… He pushed one flat bed cart ahead of him and pulled a second one behind. Similarly armed, his companion quickly located the bags of fertilizer and started loading her carts. She waved him farther into the dim green house.

"The trees and plants are that way." She whispered hastily into the somber hush of the place.

For a moment he considered begging to stay with her, but he still had his dignity so he simply nodded and edged passed. Determined to shake the dark feeling of the place he pushed his glasses up forcefully and strode purposely toward the greenery. He tossed grape vines, rose bushes and five kinds of berry vines onto one of the carts. Then moving forward quickly he bent to load young trees on the other. He barely glanced at the tags that marked their types… seeing only glimpses of fruit or nuts as he grabbed.

The clatter brought him up short. A worried frown played across his face.

"Lady Suit?" He called out quietly "You ok?" his frown deepened when she didn't answer… of course it was possible she didn't hear him. His voice was soft and she might have taken her first load to the truck. "Lady Suit?" he moved slowly in the direction he left her. Hoping desperately she was ok. What if she wasn't… what if she was hurt what would he do? He wasn't a doctor. What if she was already dead? What would happen to baby Teddy? He needed his strong mother to watch over him, especially in the world that would take shape after this disaster. Mozzie held his breath as he edged closer to the other room, irrationally he closed his eyes as he reached the doors… forcing them open he peaked nervously around the frame…

)()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()(

Alex shook her head for the thousandth time. For the last nine days she'd wondered how she let Caffrey talk her into this, but here she was looting a library…a library. Of all the ridiculous things she could be doing at the end of civilization. She rolled her eyes and kept packing. She and her partner, a cute young guy named Devin or Kevin… she couldn't remember which, who looked about sixteen and smiled shyly at her and blushed every time she glanced his way had started their morning by raiding a FEDEX store for all the boxes they could find. Now she was dumping books into them as fast as she could while he loaded them onto the cart and pulled them out to the truck. The crazy thing was this wasn't even their first library… it was the third one this week she had pretty much emptied out.

She gave up on packing the books in any semblance of organization about an hour into her first one. Now she just emptied the shelves rapidly into the boxes and moved on. At least they hadn't met with too much trouble… a crazy man holed up in an electronics store the second trip had taken a few shots at them… thinking they wanted his TVs. Her hip still stung from where one of his wild shots had grazed her, but neither she nor Devin/Kevin had been seriously hurt.

Time weighed on her. She had to hurry because she was definitely not going to be locked out of the shelter… she had three days before the doors sealed and she had every intention of being safely inside within two. She didn't mind helping out where she could, but she was not going to risk her life for a bunch of books. If Caffrey thought otherwise he was crazy.

An ominous creak caught her ear. Alex glanced up just in time to see the half-filled bookshelf begin to topple.

)()()()()()()()()()()()(

Sara seriously hoped there was a masseuse among the people in the shelter because the way her back felt she was going to need a massage by the time they got back to the bunker. She stifled a groan as she lifted another arm load of grocery bags into the shopping cart and staggered to the moving van. Her sixteen year old nephew Hayden followed behind her with a similarly loaded buggy. Canned goods weighed more than she had ever imagined. Not to mention laundry detergent and cat litter and a week of loading them in and out of shopping carts left her arms feeling like they might fall off... but she pushed on. After all clean clothes and a lack of cat poop benefited everyone. She frowned as she approached the van. Three or four teenagers were moving around her supplies. They were loading the stuff she had just carried out into shopping carts. Seriously, the store was right there…

"Hey" She called out. "Get away from there." She glowered at them.

"Who's going to make us?" one of the boys challenged. She glanced at her nephew then flicked out her baton.

"Stay here." She told the kid. Advancing toward the young thugs she swung her baton quickly and harshly at the first kid's knee, dropping him solidly to the ground. She swung around and caught the second punk in the stomach. The third lunged at her and she struck him over the head… hard. He fell like a sack of flour at her feet.

"Hey lady." The voice of the fourth kid called from behind her. Sara swung around… and froze. Hayden stood stiffly in front of the last assailant, a wicked looking knife pressed to his throat. His face tight with fear he met her eyes … "Back off lady" the young thief snarled "Or the kid bleeds." Sara's breath caught in her throat.


	21. Chapter 21

Alex scrambled back frantically as the shelf tipped. Hundreds of books rained down and the heavy metal frame fell with a reverberating crash. Her quick reflexes managed to get her out of the way just in time. As silence fell and the dust began to settle she took a shaky breath… that could have been bad, she thought as she started to pick herself up. She stopped suddenly as pain shot through her right ankle. She hissed in a quick breath and cautiously risked a look at the source of her discomfort.

Her ankle and foot were wedged between two books caught under the unwieldy shelf.

"D*** it!" Alex swore under her breath. She tried to shift one of the books, but the shelf shifted instead, threatening to crush her foot. She gasped as the pain intensified. "Devin! Devin!" she called "I could use some help!" time seemed to slow to a crawl. Minutes ticked by and she began to think the kid left her.

"Alex!" his panicked call reached her ears at last.

"I'm back here." She answered in utter relief.

"Are you ok? Are you hurt?"

"I'm stuck." She grimace to admit it. "I think I'm ok, but my foot is pinned."

"Hold on I'll get you out. Don't move, ok?"

"Not going anywhere." She muttered through gritted teeth. She watched as he tried to lift the shelving unit. She hated being this helpless… depending on a man was not how her grandparents raised her. She glared at her tightly wedged foot, wiggling her toes to assure herself it wasn't broken. It felt like it took forever, listening to the young man grunt with effort and watching his face contort with strain to lift the metal off of her. At last she felt the weight shift and lessen. With a groan of relief she slipped her foot out of the vise. "It's out" she called and the shelf fell back to its place on top of the books with another crash.

Alex tested her ankle carefully, as the rush of sensation flowed back into it. It moved, it didn't seem to be swelling and when she pulled herself to her feet it held her weight. She quickly scuttled herself over the mess and grinned at Devin/Kevin. "Thanks…"

"You're welcome." He blushed fiercely and dropped his eyes.

"Shall we move to the kids section?"

"Sounds like a good plan." He smiled nervously. "Books are much lighter there."

"And the shelves are lower."

)()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()(

Mozzie hesitated before he rounded the door frame, paused long enough to grab a broom that leaned, forgotten against the wall, and heft it defensively. He charged into the adjoining room brandishing his makeshift weapon dangerously. The space was empty.

"Lady Suit?" he called again.

"What is it?" Diana's voice startled him as she approached from behind.

"Are you ok? I heard a crash…" the young woman glared at him

"I had the carts loaded pretty high… I didn't see the terra cotta pots…" she gestured ruefully to the shattered pieces.

"Oh…" he looked from Diana to the broken pots a few times blinking slowly "I thought someone might be causing … trouble."

"And you were going to defend me?" she raised an eyebrow, her eyes falling with amusement on his weapon "with a broom?"

"It was all I had available." He sniffed. She chuckled and Mozzie glared at her "the handle would make a quite serviceable weapon… like the English quarter staff of old."

"Come on Friar Tuck…" Diana grinned "We have work to do."

"I'll choose to take that as a compliment… Friar Tuck was famous for his skills as both a thief and a master of the quarter staff."

"Take it however you want, just hurry up with those plants." She glanced around quickly "There is something creepy about all those fountains."

"It's the stone eyes…" he suppressed a shiver and turned to hurry back to his carts.

"Mozzie." Diana called after him. "Thanks… you know… for coming to defend me."

"For baby Teddy's mother…" Mozzie cleared his throat and smiled "anytime" he paused to fill his pockets with seed packets… it was probably best to put some space between himself and the moment.

)()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()(

Marcus frowned as he glanced at the man in the cab beside him. His face was pale and pinched tight with pain. His right hand held his left arm weakly to his chest, but his head rolled loosely against the head rest… he was at best half-conscious at this point the kid thought. And Marcus had no way of knowing if it was pain or blood loss that was quickly pulling the older man under. The towel wrapped around his damaged arm was soaked and dripping. Neal moaned as the truck bounced roughly over some bricks scattered across the road.

"Sorry… sorry man" he muttered. This part of Manhattan had been hit pretty hard by the small meteors and no one had bothered to clean up the streets. "I'm trying to drive gently… I just hope there is still someone at the hospital." There was a very good chance there wasn't. All of the patients had been evacuated last week by ambulance or helicopter. He'd guess most of the medical staff went with them. "Just hang in there ok?" he thought he might have gotten a nod in response, but he wasn't really sure.

He lunged the truck over the curb into the hospital parking lot. Scrambling down he ran into the Emergency Room.

"Hello!" Marcus screamed "Is anyone here!?" to his disbelief and utter relief a man and a women appeared from the back.

"Hi" the woman began calmly "My name is doctor Dalton… What's going on?"

"My… friend is hurt. I think his arm might be broken, it's really swollen and he has a huge gash up his arm… he's bleeding everywhere!" he rushed through the explanation turning to run back outside. The doctor and the man fell in step with him.

"Is your friend still conscious?"

"Sort of… he was having a hard time staying awake."

"What's his name?"

"Neal…" he pulled open the passenger door and the woman climbed up beside him.

"Neal?" she asked gently "can you hear me?" Marcus nearly laughed out loud with relief when the older man pulled his blue eyes open and smiled at the doctor.

"Yeah" he answered faintly "I'm ok." the doctor raised a pretty eyebrow doubtfully and gingerly removed the towel holding it up briefly for Neal to see.

"I'd say you were losing quite a bit of blood. Can you get out on your own or do you need help?" Neal opened his mouth then closed it with a sigh.

"I'll need help" he admitted reluctantly.

"Jay?" she called to the man over her shoulder. "Can you help him down, please?" The broad shouldered young man eyed the thin patient and grinned.

"Easily." He replied. Marcus dropped to the ground to allow the man to swing up onto the step. The sturdy nurse helped Neal out of the cab and onto a gurney with surprising speed… Marcus followed behind them as they moved quickly into the exam room. He shuttered as they started an IV… he hated needles. He flinched slightly when Neal grimaced silently in pain as the manipulated his wrist for X-rays. Marcus turned his back when Dr. Dalton started stitching up the long wicked looking gash in the older man's arm.

"There you are… you'll live." She smiled sadly "at least for a few more days."

"Is it broken?" Neal's voice still sounded exhausted. Marcus turned back to the scene.

"No, but two of the bones were dislocated… you must have fallen pretty hard on it."

"Yeah I did. Thanks for taking care of me." He smiled and winked at the woman. The doctor blushed fiercely.

"You are welcome. You know you guys should probably leave town."

"Why haven't you?"

"I'm a trauma surgeon… I felt like I was needed here."

"While I appreciate you being here… you staying to die isn't going to save anyone."

"I know I should leave, but" she shrugged "I don't have anywhere to be… no family to run with. To fight for…"

"I know a little private shelter… about two thousand people… it was put together quickly. We could use a trauma surgeon… and an ER nurse." He glanced significantly at Jay.

"You're talking about a place we might stand a chance of surviving?" Jay asked, his expression almost eager.

"A pretty good chance I'd say."

"What do we have to do to come with you?"

"No strings for just the two of you… but we could use some medical supplies and equipment if you want to help out." He looked around the room, allowing his eyes to linger on the portable X-ray machine and the crash cart in the corner. "We've done pretty good picking up the stuff we can get at a drug store, but the things that would be needed for a more serious emergency… we are seriously lacking."

"We could hook you up." Jay agreed readily

"I'm not sure this is a good idea" Dr. Dalton argued

"Ma'am, with all due respect…" Jay began in the clipped tones of a former military man "This is our only real chance and I would prefer to live… and I know you would too. We are not hurting anyone, Ma'am… all of this stuff is going to be destroyed in less than three days. Why shouldn't it be used to help people?"

"I suppose you have a good point." She conceded "Fine, you guys find the supplies and I'll stay here and make sure Neal finishes the fluids and antibiotics…" Neal smiled at Marcus' worried expression and waved him off to find the supplies they so desperately needed.

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Sara held her breath, thinking, trying to plan a way out of this situation. Hayden's wide frightened eyes and terrified expression were distracting. She had always been on her own when dealing with dangerous people. Being responsible for someone else was a rather new experience. She bit her lip as the young punk behind her nephew pushed the knife tighter against his throat. She let her eyes rest on the knife… the hand that held it was trembling. She glanced behind her at the three kids on the ground. Their eyes looked just as frightened as Hayden. D***it! She swore under her breath. If they hadn't attacked Hayden she would have been tempted to bring them back to the shelter with her. In the crowd of kids Caffrey was bringing in who would have noticed a couple of extra teenagers. Sara shook her head to clear her thoughts.

Hayden met her gaze, as frightened as he was he was not paralyzed by that fear. Almost too quickly to see his right hand darted up to grab the other kid's knife hand and shove it away from his throat in the same instant he slammed his head back into the boy's nose and a heartbeat later elbowed him in the diaphragm. His assailant dropped the knife and swore breathlessly while his hand clutched his bleeding nose. Hayden ran to her. Sara raised her baton to defend him if any of the others got any ideas.

"Fine, lady you can have the food." The kid who dropped the knife muttered forlornly. On his knees with his nose dripping down his lip and gasping for breath he looked even younger. Sara groaned.

"How about I make you a deal?" she knew she was going to regret this. "You drop any weapons you have right here, and help Hayden and I finish loading this truck. Then I will let you follow us back to the shelter we are getting this stuff for."

"Nice try lady, but they said on the news that the shelters are already sealed."

"They are. The government already seal theirs… ours is a private bunker."

"And you'd let us in?"

"As long as the weapons stay here." She glared at him "and you don't make me regret it before we get there. It won't be much… a bunk bed and couple of drawers for your things… but you'll be alive." She watched the desperate hope and fear rush across the kids' faces… they nodded toward their SUV.

"That invitation go for my kid sister and Matt's two little brothers too." Sara bit her lip… chewing thoughtfully on the idea.

"Are they in the car?" she gestured at the vehicle.

"Yeah." The kid swallowed hard "I couldn't leave her, not after my mom swallowed a bunch of pills the other night…"

She looked around at the four kids, three boys and one girl none of them older than Hayden and made a decision. "Anyone in the car can come… but no one else" four heads nodded frantically. "Good, now let's get this truck loaded so we can get out of here."

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"Boss?" Jones looked at him nervously "Your call, what do you want to do here?" Peter stared thoughtfully at the warehouse. He'd bet he and Jones had better training than the guys in there, but the defenders were heavily armed and frightened. They wouldn't back out without bloodshed. Peter didn't particularly want to kill someone over a few cans of vegetables. More importantly he didn't want Jones to get hurt. Finally he shrugged.

"We'll let them have it. Between all of us we've probably brought in three hundred truckloads of food."

"Probably a good call, Peter." Jones flashed him a grin, "These guys seem desperate and more than a little unstable."

"I agree." He ducked a little as another volley of shots were sent in their general direction. "Let's get out of here."

The two of them scrambled up into the driver's side of the cab and Jones revved up the engine. The big truck rumbled to life pulling away from the processing plant. The motor grumbled a little as it made the sharp turn out of the parking lot and back onto the highway. The miles fell away under their tires leaving the crazies to defend their indefensible position. Peter thought about the wave that would soon wash away all trace of them and felt sick. He wanted to save everyone… not just the tiny number in their little shelter. The thought of millions of people dying in a few minutes… of billions more following in the years that followed, while he lived safe and content surrounded by his wife and son… and so many of their friends was enough to wish his stomach would rebel. Not that he wasn't grateful to Neal for offering them a place to survive… The truth was he would never be able to repay that debt.

A sign ahead made Peter smile at the thought of Neal. It wouldn't repay his debt, but it would definitely make his friend's day. "Jones pull off at the next exit… I have an idea." Peter grinned.

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Neal rested his head against the cool glass of the window, staring out at the ghost town New York had become. Millions of New Yorkers were trying to flee the city, clogging the main highways thoroughly. This trip felt surreal… he couldn't quite believe that this was the last time he would see this city intact. He swallowed hard against the tears that clogged his throat.

On the little back roads the four hour drive would be doubled… but they would still be back to the shelter with almost twenty-eight hours to spare before the bunker was sealed… plenty of time, despite the two hours they spent waiting for Dr. Racheal Dalton to fill her suitcase and collect her cat and the forty-five minutes they waited for Jay Monroe to pack his duffle bag and lead his dog to his van to follow behind them.

Neal couldn't help smiling a little with relief as Marcus drove them back… it was done and they were coming in with some vital medical supplies. A dozen hospital beds, seven portable X-ray machines, five ultra sounds, and even one CT scanner, plus medication to treat anything, bags of saline, antibiotics. They had plaster for casts of every type and color. He wasn't sure exactly what all they had acquired, but he knew it would all be useful.

The sign caught his eye. Neal felt the idea stir in his mind and he tried to push it down. It would be crazy to risk another trip… He thought of the little kids who would be so traumatized by this horrific disaster. It was just a little thing, but it might help them get through this. He would be hard pushed to get back in time, but if he planned carefully he could make it. Twenty-eight hours would be eight hours for the drive, nine hours in the city and eight hours back… he could make it with a couple of hours to spare… his jaw flexed as he considered…


	22. Chapter 22

Peter sighed wearily as he saw the tunnel come into view. Thirty hours until lock down. It felt so wrong to think of the world around him in terms of hours. He watched the trees zip passed. They were so beautiful and in two days they would all be gone. He shook his head and ran his hand over his eyes quickly, to wipe away the sudden dampness on his cheeks. As they pulled inside, down the dark tunnel to the parking garage he looked around. People who had not volunteered for the foraging were busily unloading three trucks as they parked. To his right he saw Diana swing lightly down from the driver seat of the truck she and Mozzie shared, the little man climbed down more cautiously. Peter nodded at the young woman and she grinned at him with surprising brightness.

"I take it your trip was successful?"

"We have every kind of fruit and vegetable plant we thought would grow down there and about a ton of fertilizer and garden soil. You?"

"The ware house was… occupied." Peter answered with a sigh.

"By some real sharp characters too…" Jones added "We tried to tell them the place would be under water… they tried to shoot us for our trouble."

"So you didn't get anything?"

"I wouldn't say that…" Peter smiled conspiratorially thinking of the truck's cargo of art supplies and imagining the expression on his friend's face when he got the chance to show him.

"What did you get then?"

"Something that will be appreciated. Are you sure you are going to have enough soil? I mean a ton is quite a bit, but…the area is huge."

Mozzie smile smugly "Oh Suit of little faith…" he waved Peter back up the tunnel "Come on I'll show you." Peter followed reluctantly. He never knew what to expect from Mozzie. Outside the little guy waved at the valley below them. Under bright lights several front loaders could be seen scooping dirt into dump trucks. As he watched a full truck headed up the road toward them. "Most of the dirt is coming from down there near the river. We are just supplementing it."

"I see."

"Neal's park is going to be great."

"Yeah" they both fell silent. The indoor park would be nice, but it would be nothing like the outdoors. "It's a good idea and we just might pull it off."

"What do you mean might? We will do it." Mozzie glared at him "Kids deserve a place to play." He turned back toward the shelter "They are going to move in the kids from town in the morning. Lancaster told them two small suitcases and one back pack… plus bedding and towels. Poor kids are going to have next to nothing."

"But they'll have their lives."

"There is that." Mozzie shook his head "Did you see what Neal packed?

"About twenty boxes… and little freezer unit. I think there was a small table that belonged to Ellen. I didn't look in the boxes."

"I didn't either, but he went on a shopping spree before he packed, he wouldn't let me help and he put all of them in the attic space except for about five of them."

"The rest of them are probably art supplies for later."

"Maybe…"

"I thought a lot about what you said… after Neal was kidnapped."

"I may have been… harsh. At the time I was…irritated."

"You were right."

"I was but perhaps I am as guilty as you are of taking his friendship for granted." Peter gave him a startled look. "I may have… underestimated his potential. As an artist and as a man."

"You and me both." The two men stared out into the night solemnly.

Finally Mozzie broke the silence "Did he tell you when he expected to be back from this trip?"

"He's not back? I thought he would be back by now." Peter frowned "Maybe he already came in and left again?"

"Maybe" the little man shrugged "I hope he's ok." Peter contained his glare. Now he was worried.

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Elizabeth spent her morning restlessly. She wanted to be doing something, but there wasn't much she could do. All the boxes had been unpacked and carried away several days ago. What wasn't being used right now was stored in the low attic space above their apartment. The kitchen was arranged, with appliances and dishes from several homes, June's long dining table took up most of the space in the area they had designated for eating. Three couches and two arm chairs were organized as well as they could be in the living area around the TV on the wall. The book shelves that covered most of the wall space were filled with books and trinkets. In all, the apartment was cramped, with barely space to move through it, but homey. Elizabeth was pleased with the way it was set up, but the urge to be doing something was over whelming.

She wandered the kitchen and living area, she opened the cabinets in the two tiny bathrooms silently studying the crowded shelves. She tried to lay down, but found herself pacing their small bedroom…she just couldn't get comfortable, her back ached in dull spasms. Her son kicked and squirmed as though he was as restless as she was, kicking so hard she wondered if he might actually kick himself out through her abdomen.

June smiled at her sympathetically.

"You feeling alright, honey?" the older woman asked gently.

"Yeah, I feel great…just sort of restless." She frowned as another spasm rolled through her back "And my back hurts sometimes" she admitted.

"Hurts how?" June eyed her sharply

"Like a muscle spasm… it isn't bad, just annoying"

"How often are you getting these spasms?" the older woman asked seriously

"June, you don't think… It can't be… I still have almost a month! I won't even be thirty- six weeks until the day after tomorrow."

"I've found little ones come when they want too."

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Neal looked… off as he climbed slowly down from the moving van. He waved wearily at Peter when his feet touched the ground, but his grin was as bright as ever.

"We brought medical supplies" he gestured to the van. "And a trauma surgeon and an ER nurse." He smiled as two new people stepped into view. This is Racheal" He didn't stumble over the name Peter noticed "and Jay." He introduced with a smile "I thought they might come in handy." The older man noticed the brace under Neal's left shirt sleeve.

"What happened to your arm?"

"It's fine Peter… I dislocated my wrist… no big thing."

"Right… you told me your hip was not a big deal too."

"I'm ok. I've already had medical treatment." Neal waved at his companions as he moved passed him toward a large empty truck. Then Neal scrambled up onto the driver's side step and opened the door.

"What are you doing?"

"I need to make one more run, Peter."

"Are you crazy… it's only twenty-eight hours until lockdown!"

"And there is one more thing I HAVE to do before we are sealed in."

"No! You HAVE to be inside this bunker before it is closed!" the older man barely contained his shout. Neal looked worryingly pale and utterly exhausted. He absolutely could not leave this bunker and risk being locked out.

"I plan to be." Neal said far to calmly. At his friend's incredulous look he smiled brightly. "I do, Peter. I'm giving myself eight hours to get back to New York nine hours in the city and eight hours back. I can make it with two hours to spare, but I have to leave right now."

"If I can't talk you out of this crazy plan, then I'm going with you."

"Peter…"

"You aren't going alone. Neal, you are hurt and even if you weren't you would still need some help with whatever it is you plan to do."

"Well, I could use a hand…" Neal admitted. Peter smiled, he was going to win this argument. Neal was giving in.

Peter's phone buzzed with a new text. He glanced down quickly. The text was from Elizabeth's number.

"Peter call me. ASAP" He frowned. He felt Neal's stare before he looked up.

"Something wrong, Peter?"

"No… I don't know. Elizabeth wants me to call her."

"Well call her, it might be about your baby." Neal waved him away. Peter grabbed Mozzie as he stepped away.

"Do not let him leave alone. He will risk his own life, but Neal will never willing risk anyone else's life."

"Won't let him out of my sight, Suit." The little guy scurried toward their mutual friend.

Peter quickly dialed his wife. "Hon? Is everything ok?"

"I'm fine, but I am at the clinic…"she said, he didn't miss the nervous edge to her voice. "The doctor thinks I'm in early stage labor… he is going to try to stop it but…" Peter glanced over his shoulder at Neal, his mind torn.

"I'm up in the parking area…" He sighed and looked at his friend again. "I'll be right down."

"What's going on, Peter?" Neal's eyes were intense, gleaming with desperation.

"They think El might be in the early stages of labor. They are trying to stop it. Give me a few minutes to check on her, ok?"

"Have you lost your mind, Peter?! Do you honestly think Elizabeth would ever forgive you… or me if you leave her right now? Go be with your wife. I'll be ok."

"You can't go alone." He ran his hand through his hair nervously "But you're right I need to be here…"

"I'll go with him." Jay volunteered "If I can leave Duke here?" He held up his dog's leash.

"Me too." Marcus offered. Peter's frown deepened. He didn't want to trust his best friend's safety to someone else.

"Ok… just make sure he is back here in time." He swallowed hard as he took the dog's leash "He's family."

"I have every intention of being inside this bunker before it is closed." Jay declared firmly. "And he'll be with me."

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"So where are we going?" Marcus asked as the miles slipped by. "What is so important that we need to take this risk?" Neal looked tiredly between the two men he shared the truck cab with and allowed a small sigh to escape.

"It may sound crazy…" he began "but there are going to be four hundred traumatized kids in that bunker tomorrow. At least a hundred and fifty of them will be orphans… even more will have lost one parent… all of them will have lost grandparents or cousins or friends… and they are looking at a minimum of five years' worth of Christmases and birthdays down there in that bunker… I want them to have something to make those days… better."

"We're risking our lives for toys?!" Marcus stared at him as though he had lost his mind.

"It's a good idea." Jay broke in before the kid could say any more. "It's not unlike what first responders do when they have an injured or frightened kid… except you are planning a bigger scale I think."

"Yes… I plan to fill this truck up."

"With toys? In nine hours?" Marcus still seemed to think Neal was insane.

"Yes… and kids clothes. We don't have to be picky… just things you think a child… anyone under eighteen would like … preferably not battery operated… if you do get something that needs batteries… think rechargeable. Small is good… quantity is the key … though quality is good too."

"You are crazy… absolutely crazy."

"I know." He sighed "I didn't ask you to come."

"Do you honestly think you could have pulled it off alone?" Jay gave him an incredulous frown. "As weak and exhausted as you are?"

"If I had too…" Neal shifted in his seat, trying to ignore the dull throbbing in his wrist and arm and the persistent ache in his skull. As he swallowed back the slight queasiness that had lingered since the first meteor strike, he admitted quietly "But I'm glad I don't have too."

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He skidded into the clinic area, his eyes darting around the clutter of boxes and crates that filled the small reception area. The woman behind the disorganized desk glanced up from her efforts to organize the chaos.

"You're Peter?" she asked with a smile.

"Yes." He managed breathlessly "My wife called…"

"I know." The lady grinned waving him passed "Second door on the left."

"Is she ok?"

"Seems to be." She turned back to her desk.

Peter walked nervously through the indicated door, unsure what to expect. Elizabeth reclined quietly in the bed, drinking a large glass of water. June sat in the chair beside her. The two women were lost in quiet conversation.

"Hon is everything alright? Did they get the contractions to stop?"

"Not yet. I don't think they are going to." She frowned at the water in her glass. "The doctor said if they had an ultrasound machine they would make sure our baby's lungs are well developed, but they don't have one so…" she looked up at him and swallowed hard "I'm really worried about him… What if he isn't ready? What if we aren't ready…we haven't even settled on a name?"

"He'll be fine. I know he will be." He tried to reassure her, even though his own stomach clenched with worry.

In the reception area there was a sudden commotion. Then the doctor burst into the room with a bright smile.

"We just had an ultra sound machine delivered. They just unloaded it from the truck." He grinned "Let's see how things are looking before this little guy comes."


	23. Chapter 23

Neal ran through the huge, dark, silent KB toys… toy stores should not be quiet and lit only by emergency lighting, he thought. His arms burned with the weight of four of the largest shopping bags as he could find filled to overflowing with stuffed animals, who knew stuffed animals could be heavy. He pushed himself as hard as he could, frustrated with the weakness in his body. On the floor below he could hear Marcus swiping toy train sets into similar bags. Above him he heard Jay's hurried footsteps as he filled his bags with dolls and tea sets. The three men met at the truck moments later, breathing hard. They took exactly long enough to pile their burdens in the back of the moving truck, and nod briefly to each other, before dashing back into the dim recesses of the massive store.

On the frozen escalator between the second and third floors Neal suddenly grasped the hand rail desperately as the shadows abruptly spun around him. He clenched his eyes closed against the movement and taking slow deep breaths he forced himself to continue upward. He just had to finish this… once he finished this he could rest as long as he needed to… He willed his legs to keep moving. The moment passed and Neal filled more bags as quickly as he could. He staggered a bit as he clambered wearily into the back of the truck. Jay shot him a look, but Neal waved him away…

The dizziness hit again a bit later, swinging the shelves in front of him out of focus. Neal continued to grab blindly at the toys… again the wave passed with a few deep breaths. He was fine, Neal told himself, just fine. His wounded arm protested the over use by throbbing intensely almost enough to overshadow the pounding behind his eyes.

Neal glanced at his watch. They had been in the city nearly four hours, and had looted, he hated that word, one toy store already and were rapidly tearing through the second. He collected his filled bags and stumbled out into the sun again.

"Hold it right there." A voice snapped coldly "Hands where I can see them." Neal groaned and let the bags slide to the ground. "Good. Now turn around slowly." The man behind him commanded. Neal sighed in frustration. He didn't have time to be arrested… he didn't even have time to answer a lot of questions from some cop who didn't know when to give up. He closed his eyes as he turned around slowly.

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Alex smiled when the tunnel slid into view. Beside her Kevin… his name was definitely Kevin rode in surprising silence, his youthful face pensive.

"We made it." she informed him.

"I see that…" He responded quietly

"You ok?" she asked with uncharacteristic gentleness

"What?" he turned to look at her "Oh yeah, just thinking."

"It's hard to believe this will all be gone tomorrow, isn't it?" She waved at the shadowy landscape.

"Yeah." He nodded sadly. They were quiet while she parked the truck.

"We'll be alright, you know." She assured him after they slid to the ground.

"I know." He stood still as she headed for the elevator.

"I'm going to go below and get some rest…" she hesitated "You coming? I'm sure your family will want to know you are back."

"Nah…" he gave her a little smile "I'll call them… I think I want to look at the stars for a little while. Maybe watch the sun rise."

"Just remember the bunker locks down at eight am." She found herself warning.

"I remember." The kid chuckled "I'll be here."

Alex shrugged and headed down below, sharing an elevator with two men and a woman, all pushing loaded hand carts. The impending apocalypse didn't mean she couldn't have a hot shower and a good night's sleep in her comfortable bed. The long elevator ride ended and she stepped out into chaos. A mountain of dirt rose almost to the ceiling in one corner of the space, in another corner bags of concrete and sand were stacked neatly. A tangle of pipes and slides must have once been two playgrounds she assumed, boxes, bags, bundles, and machines seemed to fill every available space. She made her way through the mad house of people scurrying around trying to find places to store everything they were bringing in. It was quieter in the hallway to her room, but the rush and bustle behind her still echoed in the corridor, masking the click of her stylish flats.

Turning her key in the lock, Alex stepped into her little home. Six hundred square feet for eleven people was tight… why she let Caffrey talk her into taking in all those extra people was beyond her… but it was her home.

"Alex? Honey?" her grandmother's soft voice called from the kitchen area. "Is that you?"

"Yes, Oma" she smiled.

"Oh thank heavens!" the elderly woman stepped into sight holding a steaming cup. "I've been so worried you wouldn't get back in time."

"Well I'm here to stay Oma." She smiled gently

"You aren't going out again?"

"No. I'm going to take a shower and get some sleep. A friend mentioned watching the sun rise tomorrow… I think I might get up in time for that too… it will be the last time for a very long time."

"That it will be." The older lady sighed "Do you mind if I join you? It will likely be my last sunrise at all."

"Don't say that Oma." Alex smiled "But you are welcome to come up top with me."

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Neal opened his eyes to look at the officer before him. The grin spread across his face involuntarily.

"Dan?" he shook his head in disbelief at the tall man in an Airforce uniform with a black band around his arm declaring him to be security forces. From the corner of his eye he noted a second man in a matching uniform with captain's bars on the collar.

"Neal?" Dan chuckled "I didn't recognize you without the hat"

"Well we did only meet once."

"What are you doing?" Dan gestured to the half loaded truck.

"Honestly?" Neal gave him his best smile "stealing toys."

"Why?" the other man broke in.

"Well it's a bit of a long story… that I don't really have time to get into." He shrugged and addressed Sara's brother- in-law "but Dan, the shelter that Sara and I have space in has a large number of children… who weren't able to bring much…"

"And you are taking these to them." He shook his head "Sir." He addressed the other man "This is a friend of my sister in law."

"The one that took your kids a couple of weeks ago."

"Yeah…"

"Speaking of… we still have room for you Dan. I know your kids would love to have you."

"I have a duty here."

"Wait. You have somewhere safe to go…with your kids… and you are here. Waiting to die." The captain frowned at him.

"It's in the job description sir."

"Not like this it isn't." The other man glared at him "H*** if I had anywhere to go I wouldn't be here."

"I can't leave you here alone, Sir."

"What do you say Captain?" Neal grinned seeing his opening "You want a bunk in a shelter?"

"I'd love one. Do you have space for me?"

"You talk sergeant hard head here into coming with me and saving his kids a lot of needless grief I'll find you one personally, if I have to give you mine and sleep in the hallway."

"I'll take the hallway if it comes to that."

"Deal." Neal smiled "But first we need this truck filled with toys and kids clothes in all sizes."

"Wilcox," He turned to Dan "You and I are going to go fill our vehicle up with clothes… which we are going to bring back here… then we are going to escort these good people back to their destination, to insure they arrive safely."

"But sir…"

"That is an order sergeant!" he snapped. Dan nodded gravely, then they both grinned. Neal felt his own smile lighten with relief.

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Mozzie was wandering… he would be the first to admit it, and remind any who questioned it that not all who wander are lost. He had checked on his cows, sheep, goats and chickens. They were all ensconced as comfortably as possible in their new homes. He checked on his pigs and turkeys… delivered just yesterday while he was gone. He walked the perimeter of the work zone that would be the public park. He puttered through the hopefully soon to be library, currently filled with boxes of books and dismantled shelves. He walked the long hallways of the apartment complex, he took himself up to the surface to watch the moon rise in the sky and the wind in the shadowy trees. He checked on his recently acquired lady bugs, butterflies, and his bee hive. His finches, sparrows and hummingbirds were sleeping in their roosts. He smiled at four juvenile squirrels in their cages, his park would be perfect.

His mind flitted from worry to worry. Mrs. Suit was having her baby… a month early. While he could point the finger at all the stress of the last few weeks that didn't make him worry any less. Worrying about her and the baby made him frustrated. Attachments had always been for other people, Mozzie did not get attached… except he had. He frowned as the thought of attachments brought him to his next worry. He got attached to Neal a long time ago, if he was going to be honest with himself, he'd had a stubborn loyalty and affection for the kid since the first week he'd known him. Neal was the only partner he'd worked with that he couldn't turn his back on. Now everything was crashing down around them and Neal, as usual, was doing something impulsive and risky. The kid had the impulse control of a three year old sometimes and Mozzie couldn't count the number of times it had almost gotten him killed. Worst yet if he didn't make it back in time Mozzie would be stuck living with the suits without ever knowing when and how his friend died… which brought to mind the impending disaster. He wondered if this shelter would even hold up. The wall of water hitting the doors up above might surge right through them. An earthquake might crush the metal bunker like a tin can, despite the heavy springs it was mounted on… the ventilation system might shut down… a super virus might break out in their close quarters… a thousand things could go wrong down here.

Frustrated, nervous and feeling alone he made his way to the computer hub room, a cramped little space housing the servers he had provided… where Sally sat half dozing in front of several monitors. She had been working frantically around the clock to fill twenty- eight servers, before the information online was gone. Mozzie was pretty sure the area was intended to be a storage closet before it was repurposed.

Startling fully awake Sally dredged up a weary smile for him.

"Hey" she said quietly

"Hey" he sank into the seat beside her.

"Everything ok?"

"As ok as it can be… considering."

"Yeah."

"Can I get you something?"

"If you could bring me a coffee I would think you were a saint."

"I think I could arrange that." He stood up and strode rapidly back to the apartment. Having something to do made it so much easier not to worry about El and her baby, and Neal out there somewhere pushing his luck on getting back before he was locked out and…

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It was well after midnight when Sara maneuvered the moving van into the cavernous underground garage. Hayden dozed on the seat beside her. The SUV followed her past the guards. She parked the monstrosity of a vehicle awkwardly and after shaking Hayden awake she fell stiffly out of the cab.

She glanced ruefully at the car full of teenagers she let tag along. Again she hoped she hadn't made a huge mistake, but as she watched them begin to sleepily grab their suitcases, back packs and sleeping bags they looked even younger than before. A stuffed dog fell out of the seat and one of the boys scooped it up and stuffed it into his sleeping bag, glancing around to make sure no one noticed. Sara felt a tiny smile tug her lips up as his eyes met hers and filled with panic.

With a sigh she bundled eight exhausted teens across the garage to the elevator. The long ride down left half of them leaning on the walls nearly dozing. The woman was tempted to join them, but the car stopped at last and the door slid open. She led them across the cluttered open space to the large rooms that had been converted to an orphanage of sorts. A rather timid knock on the door brought a man about her same age.

"Can I help you?"

"Do you have room for a few more?" Sara really hoped he did. She couldn't imagine the next several years with these kids camped out on her floor. The man studied the young faces and with a deep sigh he nodded and stepped back allowing them into the rooms beyond. Seven of her charges shuffled past her, with surprisingly grateful looks and murmured thanks.

In their apartment at last Sara dropped into her bed with her clothes still on. It had been a long time since she last did that… she only meant to rest for a few moments before she changed, but she was asleep as soon as her head made contact with her pillow.

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He couldn't take his eyes off the little bundle someone had laid in his arms. The tiny upturned face that nuzzled against his arm was absolutely perfect. Peter tore his eyes off his son to smile at his wife. She had been perfect too. He was incredibly proud of her. In all of twenty long hours of labor she hadn't screamed and cried like the women do in the movies, his only experience with child birth, she had been calm and collected through most of it. Until she heard the first thin cry of their son, then the tears had come. She sobbed as the baby's wails grew stronger. Peter couldn't say he blamed her, he'd felt tears burning in his eyes as well… and when he swiped at them his cheeks were suspiciously damp.

Little Mitchel Burke weighted in at just over five pounds, seventeen inches long, and looked to fragile to touch, but he kicked and flailed fiercely, making his displeasure known, as the nurse wrapped him in a light blanket. His eyes looking up at his father's face now were a dark blue grey. Peter held him close as he stepped forward to take Elizabeth's hand. The baby nuzzled more determinedly at his bicep and El smiled.

"I think he's hungry, hon." She said with a grin. "You can't do that part… pass him over." Peter fumbled a bit with turning him properly to lay the baby in his mother's arms, then sank into a chair beside them. He watched as the little boy ate happily, making content baby bear noises. This… this was perfect… except for one thing.

The worry for his friend he'd pushed aside during the birth came surging back. Peter reminded himself that Neal had the timing planned out. He said he could make it with time to spare… he said… but his time was almost up. Peter looked at his watch, four thirty am… only three and a half hours left.

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The moving van was crowded with thousands of toys of every type imaginable for the young kids. An afterthought from Dan had sent the men foraging through other stores, as well, for gifts that teens would appreciate as well, phones, other electronics, jewelry, make up, perfume and cologne. Every inch of the smaller military truck was filled with clothes, including two duffle bags for their new companions.

Neal frowned as he looked at his watch, five fifteen. They were definitely behind schedule… the extra stops had cost them time…nearly an hour and a half. They could still make it, they **would** still make it. Jay was pushing it as fast as he safely could on the narrow winding back road. The pavement was rough and broken… and sometimes it ended entirely for several miles. Neal hated this route, but they didn't dare take the bigger roads, which were all clogged with desperate people trying in vain to flee.

They would make it, but it was going to be close, he thought as his vision blurred. The young man shook his head and tried to focus his eyes on the woods that flitted by in the growing predawn light and the road ahead. He was tired, his arm burned and throbbed torturously, the ache in his head was quickly reaching blinding levels…he couldn't remember the last time he slept in a real bed. Naps in a bouncing truck just weren't cutting it anymore… his eyes kept drifting out of focus and closing without permission. The hand he scrubbed across his eyes trembled, but he had to stay awake to help Jay find the narrow turns ahead. It was just the two of them since Marcus chose to ride in the other truck to keep the other two men on track. He looked at the dash board clock again despite himself.

It was going to be really close.


	24. Chapter 24

Tumbling out of bed she still felt groggy and tired, but Alex dressed quickly and hurried out of her room. The sun would be coming up soon and she promised her grandmother they would watch the sun rise. The fact that this was the last one she would see for several years hung heavily in her mind. As she made coffee she remember fondly watching the sunrise over the Mediterranean from a lovely villa in the French Riviera. She spent a beautiful month there last year after acquiring the small treasure Caffrey owed her. The sight never failed to be breathtaking. Northern European sunrises were stunning too… but you had to get up incredibly early to catch them during the warm months, so she had missed them frequently… now she found herself regretting her sluggishness. If she had known that the sun was something she would ever have to live without she would have treasured it so much more, but this reality was so far outside of anything she had ever imagined could happen in her life it felt like a dream. She couldn't really be sitting in an underground bunker waiting for the world to end in just a few short hours.

She smiled and offered a cup of coffee to her oma when the older woman stepped out of the bathroom.

It was time to go say goodbye to the sun, and hope she lived to see another sunrise.

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At seven o'clock Peter glanced at his sleeping wife fondly, before gathering their tiny son and his blankets in his arms and slipping out of the room. The large chamber was still in full chaos as dozens of people scurried around bringing down the contents of more trucks that had arrived overnight and building the perimeter of the park area. Two fork lifts and three small tractors were in use in the cramped and cluttered scene. Peter carefully skirted the edge of the madness and made his way to the elevators. The car for his ride up was filled with men and women with flat carts and dollies, Mitchel stirred against his dad's chest and Peter shifted him awkwardly to his shoulder as they rode up. The baby still felt to small for his big hands. Fragile enough to shatter if he didn't hold him just right.

His trip to the surface had a duel purpose. First he wanted his small son to feel the warmth of the sun on his face once before they were sealed in. Mozzie's tanning bed lights, that the workmen were currently installing in the public areas below, were a poor substitute for the real thing. Peter's second reason for the trip was… Neal. He should be back by now. The fact that he hadn't popped into the clinic to check on them indicated that he wasn't and the older man was beginning to worry.

Stepping out into the bright early morning sun light Peter scanned the crowd of people lingering on the surface as long as they possibly could. Among them he saw Alex walking with her elderly grandmother, Sara leaning against a tree with her two nieces and her nephew, the two young girls stood stiffly beside her, but the boy seemed relaxed, Haversham wandered into the edge of the forest surrounding the bunker… picking up acorns and stuffing them in a reusable grocery bag. It seemed everyone was trying to get on last glimpse of the sun, but Peter saw no trace of Neal among them.

"Have you seen Caffrey?" he demanded as he spotted Jones.

"No… I don't think he's come back yet." Jones frowned "But I'm sure he'll make it Peter."

"He better." He turned his glare toward the road, searching for approaching vehicles. He pulled his baby away from his shoulder and cuddled the little guy against his chest. He watched the tiny fist find the infant's mouth and he smiled down into the bright little eyes. "Enjoy this Mitch… I know you won't remember, but we will be back out here by the time you are in second grade at least… you're going to grow up a lot differently than I did, but the important thing is you are going to grow up. We owe that to your uncle Neal, who better get himself back here soon so he can teach you how to pick my pocket." He swallowed hard as he played with the baby soft curls of his son. "Our family will have a hole forever if he doesn't make it in time." Peter admitted softly to the baby. He noticed many of the people slowly, reluctantly making their way back into the tunnel. Peter glanced at his watch, seven forty-five. If Neal wasn't here in less than fifteen minutes he would be locked out… and hour after that…He had given up his faith a long time ago. He closed his eyes and sent a frantic prayer upward.

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When she woke up Elizabeth turned her head to look at the bassinet beside her bed. Her soft smile turned down in a small frown as her gaze found it empty. She tried to relax as she realized her husband was also missing. Vaguely she remembered him saying something as she drifted off to sleep about taking little Mitch up to the surface for the sunrise.

A light knock drew her eyes to the door. The smiling young nurse… Abigail, who had cared for her though the exhausting previous day stepped inside.

"How are you this morning Elizabeth?"

"I'm ok. Have you seen my husband and son?"

"Briefly. He was headed out as I came in."

"And he had Mitch?"

"He did. Properly swaddled and all." She reassured.

"Ok…" Elizabeth bit her lip for a moment. "Did anyone else stop by overnight?"

"Not that I know of, but I did go home to sleep." The nurse studied her "Were you expecting someone?"

"Our friend went out on one last foraging run… he hadn't come back yet "The last I heard."

"I'm sure he's back. He probably decided to get some rest after he came in rather than disturbing you during the night."

"Probably. What time is it?"

"Seven-forty" Abigail smiled "I'll be right back to help you get ready to go back to your apartment. I'm sure you will be more comfortable once you are in your own bed."

"Thanks." She managed distractedly as the young woman softly closed the door. Abigail was most likely right. Neal probably crept in the middle of the night and passed out, goodness knew he needed it, but she couldn't shake the nagging feeling he would have stopped by no matter the hour… just to make sure everything was ok.

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Jay glanced at his passenger nervously. They had twenty minutes until the gate closed. Neal seemed confident they would make it but Jay had had his doubts. Seven-forty and they were still not within sight of the tunnel. He swallowed hard and tried not to think about being locked out. Two days ago he'd had no hope, had resigned himself to death. When Neal and Marcus had offered him hope it washed over him with such sweet relief he thought his heart might explode. Now that hope was flickering, dying. He tried to cling to faith that around the next bend the entrance would come into view and they would be home free, but what if he was wrong?

What if they didn't make it? If they were sealed out they would have to try to reach higher ground… he doubted they would make it. Even if they did get enough elevation their chances of survival would be slim to none. He shot another look at his companion and sighed. Jay himself might have a small shot, but Neal looked utterly frayed. The slender man would likely be dead within a week without proper rest.

Jay bit his lip. He wanted a future desperately… maybe one where he and Racheal were more than colleages, more than friends. He wanted to be a father someday… a grandfather. He had put off that dream because he thought he had plenty of time and now… now there was no more time. If they didn't make it in time his chance would be over in less than an hour and a half.

One more sideways look at his passenger and Jay pressed his foot a little harder on the gas. They had to make it.

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"Boss?" Diana's voice broke into his thoughts. "We should probably wait inside…in the tunnel at least. Peter felt tears prick at his eyes. He looked around at the knot of people who surrounded him, each one wearing tense worried expressions.

"Yeah, you're right." he retreated as far as the door way, but his feet refused to go any farther. He turned back to watch the road. Silence fell over their group. Sara and Alex stood side by side carefully not looking at each other and blinking away tears. Jones and Diana were elbow to elbow, watching Peter for direction. He saw in their eyes the willingness to do whatever he asked and worry that nearly matched his own. June stood quietly, a comforting hand on Mozzie's shoulder. The small man was nearing full panic, barely able to stand still.

"Where is he?" Mozzie muttered barely audible "Something went wrong… I just know it."

Peter found he couldn't stand still either. He paced across the tunnel entrance as the minutes ticked by. The huge gate creaked as the controller prepared to close it.

"Is that them?" Jones asked. In the distance two trucks came into view. Peter glanced at his watch… three minutes. The door creaked again and he willed the vehicles to drive faster and mentally pleaded with the controller not to get in a hurry.

He gritted his teeth as the massive gate began to inch forward in its track… the trucks rushed through the entrance as the gate gained speed. The second truck made it in with inches to spare. The clang that followed rang with absolute finality as the gate slammed behind them. The huddled group ran up the long tunnel to the parking area. The dimly lit space was packed with moving vans, tractors and family cars. The roar of two engines cut out and cab doors opened.

When Neal slid down from the cab Peter could breathe again… until the younger man's feet touched the floor and his knees buckled. Too far away to prevent his friend's abrupt collapse he darted forward anyway. Jay was already bent over the prone form by the time he reached them. As he sank to his knees he was relieved to see the young man stirring.

"Neal?" he asked, he received a moan in response, but the blue eyes didn't open. Peter glanced at Jay "What happened to him?"

"Mostly…" Jay shook his head "I think he's exhausted. And his arm may be a bit infected… I think he will be fine."

"Infected? I thought it was dislocated."

"It was, but there was also a pretty nasty gash… he didn't mention it?" Jay turned his attention back to Neal, who moaned and finally opened his eyes. He blinked blankly up at them for a moment.

"Hey Peter…" he whispered, still obviously trying to focus his gaze.

"Hey…you're going to be ok." the younger man blinked at him again. Suddenly Neal smiled brightly.

"Is that…" He gestured vaguely to the tiny baby Peter still cradled in his left arm "he's beautiful, absolutely perfect. Elizabeth did well." His trembling hand gently brushed the smooth round cheek.

"Yeah." Peter smiled as he turned his eyes to his son then back to his friend. "Yeah she did."

"Decide on a name?"

"Mitchel… Elle's maiden name. Mitchel Neal Burke..." he grinned at his friend's stunned expression. "Well you did save his life… he's five pounds and three ounces, seventeen inches and he has a future thanks to you." Neal's grin widened, but his eyes drooped and though he snapped them open instantly Peter shot a nervous look at Jay.

"I think we are ok to move him now." Jay said quietly. "We'll let the doc check him over down below…"

"We need to get down there anyway," Jones added "they are going to seal the elevator doors soon." No one was certain the massive gate would hold up to the surging mountain of water that was about to crash into it, so the elevator shaft would be sealed at the top and each lower level until the wave had settled.

"I'll take Mitch back to Elizabeth if you want, boss." Diana extended her arms willingly "So you can help keep Caffrey on his feet." She grinned as he gently handed her the tiny infant and carefully pulled his friend to his unsteady feet.

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Dan followed the group to the elevator with his duffle bag over his shoulder, he offered a nod to the sister-in-law he barely knew and received a brief smile in return. The ride down took more than a minute and he was more than happy when the door creaked open. Sara's friend Neal stood, barely, propped up on either side by a tall man with dark hair and eyes and Jay who he met earlier. The young man's face, sweaty and pale, was utterly worn. Several times his eyes fell closed and more than once his knees buckled. Clearly he was a man at the absolute end of his reserves. Dan wondered how he had missed the signs that something was wrong. Trailing behind toward a half established clinic a shriek caught him.

"DADDY!" he managed to decipher before he was hit in the stomach by a twelve year old missile. "Oh DaddyIthoughtyouwerestilloutthere! I'msogladyoucame!" the child screamed at him in one delighted breath.

"Hi Miranda." He returned her hug, blinking away tears "I'm glad I decided to come too. Have you been ok?" he glanced at Sara over his daughter's head. She shrugged helplessly.

"I was ok." she said sadly "But I really REALLY missed you and I thought I was never going to see you again!" her voice rose to a wail at the end. He flinched at her obvious distress. "Are you going back out there or are you going to stay with us?"

"I don't think I have much choice… we're pretty much locked in."

"I'm SO glad." She finally released his waist and stepped back to grin at him. "Come on I'll show you where we are living… you can sleep in Hayden's room there are two sets of bunk beds. I don't know why because there were only two boys sleeping in there, but Aunt Sara put two bunks in there so now you can have a place to sleep and I know Hayden won't mind sharing because he is going to be so happy to see you too!" the little girl pulled him along toward the apartment, swinging the door open freely and barging in. Riley, his wife's older daughter and Hayden looked up from their places on the couch half-heartedly. In less than a breath they were both on their feet clinging to him as though they would never let go. Dan wrapped all three of his children in his arms and held on tight, absolutely certain for the first time that he had made the right choice in coming here.

"It's ok' he soothed "I'm here now. I'm here and I'm not leaving you, I promise. It's ok… It's ok" He tried to calm their sobbing, but he found he was crying too. "I'm here." Finally the four of them sank onto the couch in a tangled heap, tears exhausted and bodies spend, content to be together and safe.

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Marcus breathed a sigh of relief as he stepped off the elevator and spotted Selena and Jeff half hidden behind a pile of playground equipment. Selena waved him over excitedly, her face slightly angry.

"How dare you?" she hissed he right hand struck like a coiled snake. The slap stung his cheek before he even realized she had moved.

"What?" Marcus asked, stunned.

"You hide us in that storage room and then disappear!"

"I checked in every time I was here, I promise."

"Where were you yesterday? Last night?"

"I went out on a last run." He frowned "For toys."

"That's great." Jeff broke the tension by laughing aloud. "Toys… can you imagine getting killed for building blocks and action figures."

"Well I didn't. I'm here, right?"

Unexpectedly Selena threw herself at him in the tightest hug he had ever received.

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Seeing his best friend fold up like a broken puppet had rattled him more than he cared to admit. Mozzie tried to reassure himself that it would be ok… Neal was inside the shelter… alive. He would be fine now.

Except he hadn't looked fine when he collapsed or when he lay pale and still on the steel floor. Even when they got him on his feet he still looked to washed out, as if he might go down again at any moment. The way he stood as they led him into the bowels of the clinic… supported on either side with his head drooping and his feet stumbling weakly, was worrisome. The Suit had returned without him a few moments later looking nearly as shaken as Mozzie felt. Now they were waiting…

The young doctor Neal scoured up from somewhere the other day stepped out of the room and smiled at them.

"How is he?" Peter asked the question burning through the smaller man's mind.

"He'll be ok. He is exhausted and underweight. I suspect he hasn't been eating properly for some time. He is dehydrated which isn't surprising, really, given the blood loss the other day… I warned him that he need to be careful to get enough fluids for a few days."

"He's been pushing himself pretty hard for several months." The Suit looked guilty to admit that. "To hard… we didn't understand why until recently."

"That is unfortunate." The young woman said quietly "Were you aware he suffered a head injury recently?" Mozzie's head snapped up at that. He hadn't heard about that.

"A couple of weeks ago when the first meteor hit. He said he was fine. Wouldn't get it checked out, but he was out for at least a couple of minutes. I knew I should have made him get looked at!"

"He's ok." the doctor soothed "Fortunately it wasn't serious… but he should have rested. Since he didn't he will have nasty headaches and some nausea for considerably longer. The older injury to his hip is swollen… the wound has healed completely, but the damage to the joint has not been allowed to heal properly and may bare revisiting once he has rested." Both men nodded tensely.

"But you said he's ok?" Mozzie had to hear it again.

"I said he will be ok. He needs to rest. Seventy-two hours of bed rest… minimum. He needs to eat properly and drink plenty of fluids. I've given him a bag of saline to alleviate the worse of the dehydration. He can rest here in the clinic or in his own bed, but he absolutely needs to rest."

"We'll keep him in bed if I have to cuff him there." Peter said firmly. For once Mozzie agreed with the idea of handcuffing their mutual friend.

"He'll be fine" the doctor repeated with a gentle smile "He just reached the end of his rope today."

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Alecia sank into the couch and turned on the TV. There was nothing on except news coverage of the impending disaster. She swallowed hard as she watched live feed of several small meteors crashed into the skyline.

She didn't turn her head when someone joined her on the sofa.

"Can you believe the world as we know it is ending?" Cara asked "And we are watching it on TV."

"At least the networks will go out with good ratings." Alecia felt a tiny smile touch her lips. "Every person on the planet will be watching."

"Until they aren't" the other girl observed with dark humor.

For several minutes they watched in silence.

"I can't quite believe we are safe." Cara said in a tiny voice.

"Like it feels surreal? Or like you think the bunker won't hold."

"I don't know." She frowned in concentration. "Just like it is inconceivable that I'm going to survive the end of the world… I mean who do I think I am?"

"I hear that." Alecia replied. "I keep hearing my dad telling me I don't deserve this chance."

"You do… as much as anyone does." The stopped talking as the apartment door opened to admit the strange little man they were both still adapting to carrying the smallest baby either girl had ever seen. Behind him was Elizabeth, who had appointed herself their dorm mother, looking slightly pale and a lot weary. She sank into the first chair she reached and the man awkwardly handed her the baby with a sad smile. Once his arms were free he vanished into his room muttering softly about people not unpacking.

Alecia found herself on her feet, moving to meet the infant.

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Neal wanted nothing more than to sleep, but Dr. Dalton had appeared from somewhere and she insisted on opening his stitches and cleaning out the wound on his arm, starting an IV and lecturing him intently for several minutes about proper medical treatment, diet and getting enough rest. When she stepped away he blinked and Peter was there frowning at him.

"You risked your life for toys?"

"It was more important than that… it's about the kids… it's complicated and…" he ran his hand over his eyes "I'm too tired to explain it right now"

"I know… I know. Miss Hunter asked me to tell you that you are a complete failure as a sociopath." Peter grinned "And Dr. Dalton said you are free to go… assuming you go back to the apartment and straight to bed for at least three days."

"Three days?" horrified, he was suddenly completely awake. "What am I supposed to do in bed for three days?"

"Sleep. You need it." Neal frowned as Peter slid an arm around his shoulders and helped him stand.

"I can walk."

"You couldn't forty-five minutes ago."

"I got dizzy for a few seconds."

"You were out for over a minute and you nearly went down ten times on the way down here. Come on"

The walk back to the apartment was much longer than Neal remembered, but he tried not to lean on his friend to much. When the door finally swung open his eyes caught on the TV.

A massive ball of flame scorched across a bright blue sky with a deafening roar. While it vanished over the horizon the two men stood transfixed in the doorway. When it faded out of sight Peter gently lowered the younger man onto a couch and dropped down beside him. He startled when a small hand slipped into his. His eyes met his wife's horrified blue gaze, he hoped the gentle squeeze he gave her fingers was reassuring. A moment later all twenty three sets of eyes in the room were locked on the screen as a monstrous wall of water surged toward the New York skyline… towering above the buildings. The camera, obviously on a helicopter retreating rapidly, kept recording as the skyscrapers disappeared under the wave. Peter heard someone sob quietly, but otherwise the room was eerily quiet as the picture cut out.

For a moment it seemed no one moved… no one breathed. Then… the room bucked wildly as the mountain around them shivered violently with the earthquake caused by the impact and rocked force of the monstrous wave. It seemed an eternity before stillness settled back over the space. The clock said it was ten minutes. From the bedrooms the two babies began to cry and the room came back to life. Everyone seemed to scramble for something. Peter drew Neal to his feet and led his stumbling steps to the room he shared with Mozzie, Jones and Marcus. The young man collapsed bonelessly into the bed and Peter quickly removed his shoes and pulled the blanket over him.

It was over… they were alive. He gave his friend's shoulder a quick gentle pat before he made his way back to his own room where his wife and son waited. Elle finished rocking the baby to sleep and lay down silently on the bed. Peter covered her up gently and then lay down beside her.

"It's going to be ok hon." He whispered

"I hope so." She smiled at him sadly. The world as they knew it was gone forever, but he would cling to the hope that it would be ok… eventually. Slowly they drifted off to sleep.


	25. Chapter 25

Getting Neal to rest for three days turned out to be worryingly easy. By the end of the first twenty four hours he didn't appear to have moved. It was well into the second day before he stirred and woke… groggy, he tried to work his way out of bed just as Peter was changing the dressing on his forearm.

"Oh no you stay right there." The older man pushed him gently back. "Dr. Dalton says you need to stay in bed for three days… minimum."

"Why?" Neal settled for sitting up against the wall. "I have to…" he trailed off sleepily.

"You have nothing to do that can't wait." Peter told him. For the first time the young man seemed to register the bunk above him, the steel walls, the tiny bedroom, crowded even without the other men who lived there.

"What are you doing?" he looked lazily at his arm still resting in Peter's hand.

"Keeping you from getting a serious infection." He shrugged "You have a pretty ugly gash under there…and you pulled half your stitches out trying to load that last truck."

"We made it back?"

"Obviously… with two truckloads of toys and kids clothes."

"And the asteroid…" Neal choked on the word slightly. Peter dropped his eyes.

"It hit yesterday morning."

"Oh…"

"You cut it really close. Another minute you would have been sealed out." It was Peter's turn to choke. "You shouldn't have gone back that last time."

"But I found Dan… Sara's brother-in-law, didn't I?"

"Yes" he sighed "Neal… I just… thank you… really, but if you ever…" he gave up on explaining how frightened he'd been the previous morning and settled for carefully squeezing the arm in his grasp. Neal smiled drowsily… nearly ready to drift back off. "You should drink some water and probably eat something."

"Ok." the water was easy, a glass sat waiting on the bookshelf by the bunk. Peter handed it to his friend and hurried off to make him a sandwich. When he returned the kid had dozed off again… still sitting, propped against the wall, the empty water glass clasped loosely in his hand.

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Unpacking books was mindless work, but Mozzie didn't really mind mindless right now. Honestly if he could get his mind to shut down for a little while he would be grateful it was hard not to think about everything thing… everyone that was lost. He had always prided himself on his ability to not get attached, but now down here he realized slowly just how many attachments he had formed over the years. Far to many of them had been severed abruptly by a chunk of space rock.

He was unpacking a slightly worn set of classic novels when he happened to glance at the door. His hand paused in midair, still holding "King Solomon's Mines" as he caught sight of Neal walking through the door. The younger man still looked tired, but the he didn't carry the look of bone weary exhaustion that had hung over him the last few months. He was stronger and far less pale than he had been in a while. He hesitated a moment in the doorway before quietly crossing the room to join the smaller man.

"Look who decided to rejoin the living" Mozzie said pushing his glasses up and returning to lining up books on the shelves. Neal, he noted didn't smile. "Are you sure you are supposed to be out of bed?"

"Doctor said three days. It's been five and a half." The younger man grabbed a book and held it thoughtfully "I'm good." He tried to smile then, but it fell flat. Mozzie nodded, wisely deciding not to give his opinion on that. "I couldn't keep staring at those four walls anymore. I needed to do something."

"You've done enough, don't you think?" he didn't mean the words to sound angry… accusatory, Mozzie was as surprised as Neal when they came out that way. The kid dropped his eyes and stared at the book in his loose fingers.

"Yeah… I guess I have haven't I?" guilt laced his soft voice.

"Neal… I didn't mean it that way. I just meant…"He shrugged helplessly "You worked yourself into the ground for this… I thought… when you collapsed the other day, I thought… for a minute that you had literally killed yourself for this place."

"I'm fine."

"Now." The smaller man met his friend's eye "Just… don't do that again. Ok?"

"Alright."

"Good. Now are you going to put that book on a shelf or just hold it all day?"

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He let the painting take him… carry him far away… laying on his back on the scaffolding suspended more than thirty feet above the floor it was easier to push his overwhelming fear, and grief to the back of his mind. The only problem with his coping mechanism that Neal could see was he was rapidly running out of ceiling. The vast space had taken more than three weeks of painting several hours per night to transform, now he was down to less than an hour's worth of work. He glanced at his watch… he never wore a watch before except for the FBI transmitters, but he grabbed one, along with several packages of batteries, in the harried week before they were sealed in. For the next five to seven years there would be no visible night and day in their little world… just lights on and lights off.

Neal spared his handiwork a quick glance and felt a tiny smile slip into place involuntarily. The glowing paint stood out sharply in the dim incandescence of the emergency lights. Like the shadowy park below and library scheduled to open next week, hopefully his painting would offer an illusion of normalcy to the confined survivors of their community.

Normal… normal was gone… everything that was normal was utterly destroyed along with millions… billions of lives that were wiped out instantly by the surging mountain of water that crushed the coast lines around the world a month ago, along with the billions more who were struggling, dying even now up above in the dark uninhabitable environment left behind by massive dust clouds and erupting volcanos… he closed his eyes and forced his focus back to his painting… he couldn't think about it… about the world above, not yet, the horror was still to visceral.

Out of ceiling, he sighed and neatly sealed his paint buckets. Dropping his brushes into the thinner the young man rolled onto his stomach and slithered to the edge. The climb down in the dim light was a bit challenging especially in his exhausted state, but he welcomed the task, anything to keep his mind occupied until he collapsed into exhausted slumber for a few hours, too tired to dream.

"So this is what you have been sneaking out to do after everyone else is sleeping." A quick look over his shoulder revealed the silhouette of a man.

"Hi Peter… you caught me."

"Always do." The older man looked up at the ceiling for a moment "this is… wow…"

"I forged the sky." Neal shrugged and continued the climb. "What is the sentence for that?"

"Neal…" his voice carried a warning filled with concern "This is not a forgery… this is… amazing… you even have constellations… and the moon rising over there…

"I needed something to keep my mind occupied." His foot missed a bar and for a moment he scrambled for balance. Below he heard a sharp gasp. "I'm fine, I've got it." he called as soon as his grip was secure.

"Now that you've finished, you think you might be ready to sleep more than a couple of hours at a time. I don't want to see you collapse again" Neal grimaced, embarrassed he had slept most of the first week in the bunker.

"I'm ok."

"Considering everything… you are doing as well as anyone. Elle couldn't stop crying yesterday. Jones got a case of the shakes the other day stocking books in the library and I have nightmares every night about my family being out there… and the worst part is some of them are."

"I know, Peter" his feet touched the steel floor and he sighed "I'm really sorry there was only so much space in the apartment…"

"I wasn't blaming you, Neal" Peter's warm hand landed on his arm in the dark "two thousand people… including me, my wife and our son owe you our lives… you have nothing to be sorry for..."

"Except for the billions of people who…"

"Even you're not arrogant enough to think you could save everyone in the whole world." He shook his head and grinned affectionately.

"I know there was no hope of saving everyone. I just… actually I try not to think about it too much."

"Hence the sky full of stars." Peter gestured upward.

"Yeah…"

"And the park, the school, the clinic and the swimming pool…" He smiled "and the library and the servers Haversham and his girlfriend spent the week before the impact downloading full of everything they could think of… when are you going to stop?"

"Now, I guess… I ran out of ceiling." Neal managed to return his sad smile.

"For the record… I appreciate the running track."

"You do?"

"I do and Jones' niece and nephew love the playground." He let the deep quiet of the sleeping bunker settle over them as they drifted toward the long hallway to their apartment. Neal was suddenly struck by a longing for the sound of traffic while he waited for his friend to say something. "You missed the community meeting last night."

"I know."

"I thought you might enjoy being a part of creating our city government."

"I assume you kept it pretty simple. Mayor, city council…"

"They nominated me for sheriff."

"Diana?"

"Yeah, she threw it out there before I could say anything."

"Better she nominated you than you nominating yourself… that way you don't look so arrogant."

"That's not what I…" he trailed off with a chuckle as he caught glimpse of his friend's playful grin in the faint glow. "You put her up to it didn't you?"

"I'll plead the fifth on that one…" Neal hesitated "that does still apply right?"

"Yes, Neal you still have the right to remain silent…"

"So any laws I should be aware of?"

"So far just the basics… don't kill anyone, don't drink too much homemade wine and decide to jump off the balcony…"

"Sounds pretty doable… I assume don't steal is in there somewhere."

"Yeah."

"That may be more tempting in five to seven…"

"For more than just you." A few more steps fell under their feet "You know I have room for one more deputy… it even comes with a badge… a real one." Peter offered "I understand if you would rather not and it is entirely your choice."

"I still have a few months left on my sentence."

"Not anymore… as far as I'm concerned you are a free man."

"Thanks…" Neal looked around the hallway. "For what it's worth."

"Neal, I know this is hard, this place is confining and the quarters are close, really close-"

"Says the man not sharing a room with Jones, Mozzie AND a nineteen year old graffiti artist." The younger man lamented.

"You didn't have to bring them."

"I'm glad I did."

"I know… and I know living with them is a challenge… my point was-"

"We're alive and we are going to be ok." Neal stopped him with a hand on his arm. "I know that, Peter. I do… but it still hurts to think of…" his voice withered away.

"I know… if it helps, it hurts me too. It hurts all of us" His voice cracked sharply "but all we can do is go forward. And help each other when we can."

"Somethings never change." Neal muttered through a half suppressed chuckle.

"Oh really?"

"You're still telling me to move on… just like you did when we first started working together."

"I do know it's not going to be easy."

"It's not, but you are right… life goes on… for us at least…maybe it would help if we held some sort of memorial… Memorial Day is coming up… everyone could bring pictures of people they care about who aren't here and …if Elizabeth is feeling up to it…" Peter smiled as his friend continued planning… it would take some time but they would be alright and life would find a way to go on.

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The park was filled. Nearly two thousand people standing shoulder to shoulder in their best clothes. Miles Lancaster stood at the front of the huge room. His voice was quiet and somber as he spoke of all those lost. A surreal silence fell over the community as he turned and taped a picture of his brother to the wall.

"Winston Lancaster Jr." He said in a firm voice that resonated through the huge steel room. "I will never forget you." When he stepped aside the hush lingered as one by one the residents moved forward and placed pictures of their family and friends on the wall. As each picture was placed the names were spoken and the survivors said good bye. Marcus hadn't thought it was possible for such a large crowd to be quiet but aside from an occasional sob there remained almost no sound. When it was his turn he stepped forward, between Jeff and Selena as they placed the pictures of their classmates and friends. They took turns calling the names.

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Staring at the wall of photographs was overwhelming. Neal felt like he was drowning in a sea of grief. These pictures would fade… the faces they held lost and forgotten.

Everyone else had returned to their rooms after the memorial. Neal stood alone and studied

"It's overwhelming isn't it?" June's soft voice intruded on his dismal thoughts. He nodded silently "There is so much love on that wall." Neal's eye jerked around sharply to meet her gaze.

"So much loss you mean." He finally said.

"Neal, sweetheart you can't have loss without love." She told him firmly. The young man sighed.

"The memorial was supposed to make it easier."

"And it will." She smiled sadly "in time." She straightened her dress and met his gaze "It seems a shame though… that we don't have a more permanent memorial." Neal nodded again.

"It does, doesn't it?"

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Neal rolled out of bed and silently picked a suit from one of the four in his small closet. His feet made almost no sound as he padded to the bathroom, hoping it was unoccupied. He heard the shower running through the door. Twenty-five people with two small bathrooms meant they were rarely empty. Hanging his suit by the bathroom door he wandered into the living area. In the corner he knelt down and plugged in the Christmas tree there. The twinkling bulbs lit up special ornaments contributed by each person in their home, including a wooden baby's first Christmas he made for Mitch, and the surprisingly large pile of small gifts under it.

He smiled and allowed his gaze to drift around the room as he settled on the couch. In the six months since the community memorial this little space had become home. Somehow down here under a mountain they had found a new normal… a crowded chaotic normal rhythm of their lives and the detris of it could be seen in the apartment. Jones' shoes where he always left them at the end of the couch, Mozzie's book lying open over the arm of his favorite chair, Elizabeth's light blanket folded neatly over the corner of a sofa, Alecia's sketch book and his own easel against the wall were all hints at the life they had created here. Agent Harrison, Keith, sleeping on the couch opposite the one on which Neal sat. In the center of the large dining table sat an enormous bowl of Christmas treats, freshly made the last week with milk, butter and eggs from Mozzie's farm… in the far corner a small garden in pots grew enthusiastically under a single sunlamp, the fresh herbs sending out their scents to brighten the home.

Neal yawned and stretched comfortably marveling at the resiliency of the human mind. Just seven months after the end of everything they ever knew, life went on as if it had always been this way.

The bathroom door opened and Neal was not surprised that Peter was the one who beat him to the shower. He grinned at the older man.

"You're up early."

"Mitchy woke up an hour ago." Peter shrugged "He went back to sleep…"

"You didn't" he teased, Peter sighed

"I thought I might take a stroll around the square…" he smiled "you know make sure everything is still ready for later." Early morning strolls had become a habit of Peter's and the whole community was beginning to refer to them as the sheriff's rounds.

"Give me five minutes to shower and I'll join you."

"I can wait five minutes I guess." He shoved the younger man gently toward the bathroom. "You want some coffee? I know it isn't Italian roast, but..."

"Sure." Neal agreed over his shoulder "Don't forget to add water this time." He added with a brilliant grin.

Ten minutes later they slipped out of the apartment, both men clutching steaming mugs of coffee. They walked in comfortable silence for a moment.

"So a suit… I haven't seen you in a suit since…" Peter began

"Since the memorial… there really hasn't been much call for one."

"You do have a point. They aren't the best for the type of work you've been doing lately."

They reached the open expanse of the park area. In the hallways the upper floors covered them, but here the ceiling rose forty feet from the steel walkway and the room opened up to a vast nearly three acre space. To their right a concrete perimeter contained the soil of the park and community garden. Under the ceiling lights that just began their morning brightening several small birds could be seen darting among the flowers and trees. A young squirrel scurried back up a pecan tree. The grass was vivid green and the blooms and butterflies spanned a range of brilliant hues.

Near the far end of the park an evergreen tree stood nearly twelve feet tall from its seat in the raised ground. At its crest a star glittered brightly and ornaments cascaded down the branches. At the bottom almost five hundred gifts represented each child in the bunker.

To the left was the clinic, the sheriff's office and jail, the community hall, the school, library, commissary, and the children's home… all twined with Christmas lights and deck with artificial garlands and wreaths. Down the center expanse rows of tables were set up for the feast planned for later in the day. Games and races were laid out in preparation for entertainment at the party.

The vast room ended at a wall painted with an intricately twisted forest of trees. Each small branch bore faces in place of leaves. Thousands and thousands of faces decorated the memorial forest, each one unique… each one the face of someone remembered by a member of the community. Neal smiled sadly as he reached the mural. He had painted each portrait from the photos left at the Memorial. Under many of the tiny faces a name was written in delicate script. Flowers and small mementoes frequently decorated the base of the wall. Just staring at the size of the complicated painting made the young man's heart clench painfully. It took him the better part of five months to create it and each day he had felt close to tears. Somewhere in the long process he found a measure of peace though… He found he could think about the way things used to be without feeling like he was being crushed by a sheer overwhelming wave of guilt and grief. The agony of the first few weeks had faded to a dull throb in the back of his heart.

He dutifully followed Peter through his rounds, making light conversation and laughing. At last they reached the door of their home and Neal stepped inside. Breakfast was just being laid on the table and their family was gathered for it… Sara's family was already in attendance and Alex and her crew arrived just moments after the two men. There was barely room to stand in the small apartment with approximately fifty people crowded into it, but the laughter and smiles combined with Christmas carols someone had put on set a cheerful mood. The twinkling lights of the Christmas tree and at least a dozen candles gave a festive glow to every face.

They all found a place at last and Neal lifted a glass of orange juice as he stood. He opened his mouth to offer a toast and hesitated, allowing his eyes to glide slowly over the people here… a family… his family gathered for Christmas. He felt tears sting his eyes and his lips turn up in a small smile. Darkness had come… had fallen over the whole world. They had no way of knowing if there was anyone left alive outside or even in other bunkers, but here… here inside their little safe haven they were alive and together… they would find a way through this night and into the sun again.

He cleared his throat and lifted his glass again.

"To the rising sun and a bright future."

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 **The End**

obviously not mine but they are so much fun to work with. Thanks to Kitty for all the editing. if you made it through the whole thing let me know what you thought,


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